


I'm Not Okay

by alex_jones



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abusive Parents, Depression, Domestic Violence, Drama, Multi, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Teen Romance, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 14:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 76,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15536745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_jones/pseuds/alex_jones
Summary: Alfred Jones was a highschool student, a cheerful and loud musician who didn't have a lot of friends, but those who were close to him were always there for him.Yet no one knew what went on behind that mask of carelessness - the constant dark thoughts that haunted the young musician through the days.What would happen to him in the future, and who would be there for him?Maybe that cute British boy he had always crushed on?Let's find out!





	1. Breathing

//quick note - 1st person sentences are the person's thoughts and inner monologue!

"Alfred, wake up! It's almost nine already!"

A familiar, soft voice rang through the room reaching Alfred's ears, and the dusty blonde American boy knew it was time to wake up for something he had always learnt to dread...

School.

Oh, how he hated it. The students, the teachers, the homework and the unnecessary projects their Biology teacher loved to give them every single week.  
Truth be told, he never did a single one of those right. No wonder his grades were getting lower and lower by each day - from a straight A student to a not-so-deserved C student.

"Fine, I'm up, I'm up..." Alfred groaned and rolled around in the warm comfort of his bed for another moment as his little brother Matthew stood there, backpack across shoulder, glaring at his lazy older brother who could usually always wake up well on weekends, but never on school days.

He wondered why that was so.

Alfred and Matthew Jones were two American brothers from New York who now lived in London with only their father, who was still not over the tragic loss of their dear mother which happened around four years ago from an illness unknown to both of the children.  
While Alfred was sixteen, Matthew was fourteen, but it seemed to other people as if they were twins by how they looked. Both had soft, blonde hair with a small curl sticking out the side of it, but the younger Jones brother grew his hair out to almost shoulder length. They both wore glasses, and people mostly distinguished one from the other by their personalities.  
Matthew was shy, introverted, calm and soft spoken, a hardworking student who never missed a single class, but his brother...

Oh, his brother.  
Alfred was always cheerful, or so he appeared, and it seemed like nothing was able to bring him down. He loved music, and excelled at playing piano. His hobbies consisted of composing, singing, writing lovestruck song lyrics and a couple of songs that he would never be able to show anyone.  
He loved people, hanging out with friends, and could bury himself in endless chatting with a person if he had the time on his hands.  
Although he was social, Alfred didn't have many friends.  
His best friends were Gilbert, an equally cheerful, cool German boy who just moved to London a year ago, a total troublemaker Elizabeta who Gilbert was definitely crushing on, Mathias, a Danish boy who sometimes hung out with their little group and...  
Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. A gorgeous English boy who was a year older than Alfred, making him seventeen years old, a sporty type who seemed to have something against French people.

Arthur was simply amazing. Ever since Alfred came to London, he had his eyes on him. On that beautiful soft, light blonde locks of hair he wanted to run his fingers through to that lips that clearly suggested they were good to kiss.  
Oh, Alfred was so in love with him.

But of course, what would a sporty, kind of grumpy and somewhat 'popular' British boy do with a loud and obnoxious American piano player?

Alfred didn't see a chance with him, and he could swear that Arthur didn't like boys the way he did.

Little did he know, Arthur Kirkland reciprocated his feelings.

\- - -

On their way to school, by foot since they missed the bus already from Alfred's sleepiness, the Jones brothers didn't find any of their friends. Of course, nobody was that late to school besides them.

"Alfred, you'll pay for this. I've never been late to school before!" Matthew spoke in an irritated voice and threw a glare towards his big brother.

Alfred just smirked. "Come on, everyone's late once or twice in their life. If you're me, about ten times in two weeks."

"Lazy ass."

"Hey, I do all my work! I just don't do it right most of the times. Not my fault math is so confusing." The older American complained with a childish frown proudly slapped onto his facial expression.

"Math is easy. If you want, I can help with that."

"Smartass, I doubt you'd be able to do year eleven math."

"Oh, never mind, we don't have time for this now! We have five more minutes until second period starts!" Matthew grabbed Alfred by the arm and pulled him so they'd run faster, and not get lost in small talk.

They were already able to see the big, yellow building which resembled their school, and Alfred already felt shivery at the sight of it. The school was enormous, with over two thousand students going to it every single day.

The entrance was huge - a big, glass door which opened automatically, programmed to sense somebody was about to step through. Pretty modern, and it surprised the two brothers the first time they had gone here.

The doorkeeper greeted them with a hand motion which clearly said stop right there, and Alfred couldn't help but roll his eyes at him.

"Boys, why are you coming to school so late?" The older man's voice rang through the big hall on the ground floor of the school.

"Uh, I slept in." Alfred immediately admitted, and the doorkeeper sighed before scribbling something down on a piece of paper, motioning for them to go to the classrooms on the upper floor.

"Thanks!" The boys said in unison before running off Alfred to the History classroom, Matthew to English right before the bell rang for the second period to begin.

Phew, they were right in time for it to begin.

\- - -

Hours flew by, and they were still stuck in school.  
It sometimes seemed really endless.  
Alfred was now stuck in Biology class, listening to some really boring stuff about genetics and some kind of Punnett square he didn't even understand. Why would he care would his kids have green or blue eyes, or whether they would have blonde or red hair? He wasn't planning on ever having them anyway.  
He was surely not interested in it.

Blankly writing down what the teacher put on the blackboard, he sighed and almost fell asleep if it weren't for his desk mate, Elizabeta, who kept him sane in almost every class except Maths, where he sat with Arthur - which is another reason why he was extremely close to failing the class, not his fault Arthur was a big distraction - and Chemistry, where he was sadly put next to this really grumpy Italian who always swore in whispers and didn't like anything that was happening.

"Alfred!" She whisper yelled and pulled his sleeve, making him jump a little in his seat and let out a small yelp - not small enough to stay silent to the others, though.

Now everyone was staring at him, and the teacher too. "Jones, can you repeat the last task?" The glaring professor asked in a low, deep voice which could easily startle anyone in class.

"Uh... I-I'm sorry, I wasn't following..." He apologetically said and straightened himself up in his seat, avoiding eye contact with the teacher.

"For the fifth time today, I see! Extra homework, that's it. Hope you learn something now."

Shit. Like the ten pages we were going to get weren't enough, I have to do extra stuff now.

This is going to be a long day...


	2. Trying Hard

Biology flew by slowly and so came lunchbreak, which meant Alfred was finally able to hang out with his friends and see Arthur from a closer perspective, and not just glance at him sometimes and spin around in boring classes to pass messages on little papers to not only Arthur, but all his friends.

As Alfred, Arthur and Elizabeta walked down from the Biology classroom and into the school cafeteria, they threw a quick look all over it before spotting their friends at the table next to the radiator. Of course they were going to sit wherever it was warm, and wherever the table was clean enough. Gilbert, Mathias and even Matthew waited for the three to appear.  
The German didn't take the same classes as the rest of the group, since he was just a year younger than Alfred's class and two years older than Matthew's, and it highly irritated him he couldn't be in class with all of his close friends. But, at least they were together at lunchbreak.

"Hey!" Alfred greeted them all with a wide grin plastered on his face, sitting down next to where Arthur sat himself a moment earlier. "What are y'all up to?"

"Ugh, can you speak proper English for once?" Arthur teased, pretending to be irritated by the American's accent, when in reality he felt seriously attracted to it.

"You didn't answer my question, Artie." Alfred teased back, and the rest of their crew groaned from their constant bickering.

"Every single day. You guys are like an annoying couple fighting over how warm the tea must be." Gilbert felt the need to make the comment, making both the Brit and the American stop and blush immensely at the words.

Everyone knew that Alfred was so into Arthur, except the Brit himself.  
Everyone knew that Arthur was so into Alfred, except, what a surprise, Alfred himself.

The crew just didn't know how to set them up so they would finally confess to each other.

"W-what?!" A flustered English accent mixed with an even more bewildered American one could be heard in unison, and all students at the table broke into a fit of laughter.

Elizabeta just smirked and leaned into Gilbert to whisper something in his ear, which made the young German grin and nod as a confirmation to the girl's words which nobody else was able to hear.

"S-so anyway, I don't have piano class today, maybe we could hang out in the afternoon, if my dad lets me out of the room, that is." Alfred desperately tried to change the embarrassing topic, and there were no complaints about it.

The American's father was really strict since their mother passed away, and at some days the older brother wouldn't even be let out of the room. For Matthew it was different. He was the precious, young child while Alfred was a useless, stupid, lazy teenager who got yelled at for no reason on a daily basis. Lucky for him, their dad never crossed the line and never took out all the anger as a step further than just yelling.

"Yeah, we sure should! Maybe we could hop down to my place and play a board game or something." Gilbert suggested, and got heaps of nods as agreements.

"Alfred, didn't you get extra ten pages to do in both math and bio today?" Elizabeta asked curiously, but kind of in a teasing manner as well.

"W-well yes, I have... I don't know why, though! I mean, what am I doing wrong to get extra work every single damn time?" He huffed and sighed, sinking into his chair.

"Maybe because you're a lazy arse." Arthur suggested, earning a snicker from Matthew.

"That's exactly what I called him this morning!" The brother added on.

But Alfred didn't find it amusing whatsoever, even though he knew it was meant as nothing more than a friendly joke.

"Geez, very funny." He rolled his eyes and mumbled, not making eye contact with any of his friends.  
A part of him believed that they were right, but he knew they kind of weren't. He tried his best, he really did, it was just too overwhelming with everything else and it could bring him down as if a massive weight fell from the sky right on him.  
Math was difficult to him, and he really didn't understand a single thing that was going on in class. When he asked his father for help, the man just called him a failure and that if he were of any worth, he'd be able to do such simple tasks himself.  
Biology and Chemistry were just so uninteresting to him! He hated science subjects. All he loved was History, and of course his piano classes. That, he adored.  
Still, at one point he was a millimeter away from failing History class.

He didn't understand why he was so bad at things.

Maybe they were all right, maybe he was worthless, maybe...

"Alfred, you okay?" Arthur nudged him from the side, snapping the younger out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, I was just thinking." Soon he sat straight and cleaned his throat, knowing he was stared at by all of his friends.

"You know, we were just joking about calling you a lazy arse and stuff." The Brit quickly said, trying to cheer his friend up.  
He immediately felt bad, and a part of him was worried whether Alfred was mad or not.  
Arthur was in love with him, and the last thing he wanted to do was make his love mad.

"Hey, no worries, I'm not mad at you or anything!" Alfred faked a smile and chuckled ever so slightly.

I'm really not mad at him, I could never be.

"Right, right. You still on for this afternoon, though?" Gilbert asked before the English boy could even open his mouth to reply.

"I'll text you if I can come."

\- - -

Taking a ride home, Alfred and Matthew got off the bus once it stood at the stop nearest to their house. The two of them said goodbye to their peers and ran towards their home, well better said raced to home.

"I win!" Matthew grinned as the palm of his hand touched the door which was the entrance to their place.

"Aw, no fair, you have less things in your backpack and it makes it easier for you to run."

"Yes, but you're bigger than me." Alfred's younger brother praised himself for the small victory a longer moment, before they both got into the not so big place they called their home.

Their father was laying down on the couch in the living room, the television playing as the man was entranced by the pictures, not even noticing that his sons returned home.

"Dad, we're home", Alfred said, dropping his backpack on the floor, Matthew doing the same.

The tall, muscular blonde haired man picked up the remote control, turned off the television and waited a moment until the screen turned completely black, only then turning to face his two kids.  
"How was school?" He asked calmly, but with a hint of fatigue in his voice.

"Good, I guess. We have a lot of homework", Matthew answered.

"Mhm, that's great." He replied without showing any interest. "Matt, go do your work, I have to talk to Alfred about a serious thing."

Without hesitation, the younger Jones brother complied, nodded and took his backpack of the floor, dragging it into the room which he shared with Alfred.

Alfred felt his insides turn at the words.  
Whenever his dad started a conversation like that, it never ended well.

"What do you want to talk about?" His voice almost cracked, the insecure behavior showing on his face. He stood in the living room straight, eyes pierced to the man who now stood up from the couch to get a clearer picture of Alfred.

"Alfred, what the fuck happened to your grades? I was in school this morning and all I see is a bunch of C's, D's and a failed math exam! And here I though that at least you're doing some work!" His father's voice suddenly went rigid, Alfred's eyes widening at the statement.

Crap, I thought he never went to school.

I'm in some deep trouble, it seems.

"I-I just don't get it...! Math is too difficult for me, a-and the teachers keep giving me extra work to do..."

"How the fuck can you not get it?! Maybe if you fucking sat and studied once you'd get it! Or are you that stupid that you can't get simple math? And don't get me started on the biology projects! Not a single one got higher than a D. How do you expect to get into a good college and actually be something in your life with these grades?"

Matthew could hear the yelling from the room. He gritted his teeth, putting his headphones on and turning up the music to the loudest to block out the sounds.  
He hated hearing their father yell at Alfred. His brother was doing nothing wrong, all he needed was help in the things he didn't understand! If only he were able to help...

"I'm sorry, I'm trying, I really am..." Alfred looked down in shame and muttered the words with insecurity as his father kept lecturing him about what he saw in school.

"You know what? You're not leaving your room for a full week. I've had enough of your constant laziness. Why can't you be a hard worker like your brother?! All you do is sit around or bang my fucking ears out with that piano of yours! I will never understand why your mother got it for you!"

Bringing their mother into the conversation, the slightest hint of comfort which hid inside of Alfred was gone, gone completely.  
He was not far from crying, but he kept it all in.

Alfred's piano was kind of small for a sixth year music student, small and portable, he got it six years ago when his mother first got him into music lessons and spotted the talent inside of him.  
He cherished it with all his heart, and even brought it to England when it was time for them to move away.

His dad tried to break it multiple times during his anger outbursts, but never succeeded.

"B-but I'm actually good at piano!" He tried to fight back, but it was all useless.

"Good? Ha, if your playing is good, then I wouldn't be able to listen to someone bad whatsoever." His dad let out a bitter chuckle, eyes burning with anger.

At that comment, the boy couldn't help but burst into tears. The only thing he was good at, one of the very little things he enjoyed doing and loved with all his heart, and his father wasn't proud of him for it. On the contrary, his father hated that he was doing it.

"Stop crying and get to work!"

Smack!

A slap resonated through the room, and Alfred felt as if the entire world went silent.

His father never slapped him before. It was always yelling, verbal insulting, but never physical.  
The young American's teary, blue eyes confusingly stared at the man in front of him, and his hand instinctively grasped his painful cheek.

"W-what-"

"Just go to your room. I don't want to see you."


	3. Lies

"Just go to your room. I don't want to see you."

Alfred wordlessly replied to his father's words by taking his backpack and heading towards his room, still sniffling from the tears which were streaming down his red cheeks without stopping.

But he didn't want Matthew to see him cry.  
He wiped off the tears and entered the room, spotting his little brother writing homework with music loudly turned up.  
As soon as the older American stepped in, Matthew took off the headphones and concerningly stared at his brother.

"You okay?" He softly asked, worry visible in his eyes.

"Yeah, don't worry about me." Alfred responded immediately, but his voice was rough from crying and it was really easy to spot he wasn't as fine as he said he was. Sitting himself on his bed, he took out the awfully heavy biology book and a marker to underline important things.

The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his father on the upcoming exam next week.

"Alfred, you're crying."

"It's nothing."

Matthew figured he didn't want to argue, so letting out a long, pained exhale, he continued writing task fifteen of his math homework.

Both brothers fell silent, each doing his own work. All that could be heard in the room was rhythmical breathing and scribbling of a pencil on paper.

"I can't fucking do this! I don't get it!" Alfred yelled out a couple of minutes later, almost dropping the book on the floor. "When the hell am I going to ever need this in life?"

"What do you need help with?" Matthew turned around in his spinning chair and asked.

The older American stood up, placing his book on the other's work desk and pointed at the confusing paragraph with the yellow marker he held in his hand. "This part."

Being two years behind Alfred, it was difficult to help him. But, he tried and tried, hoping that his brother would understand at least some of the information given to him.  
Matthew read the text three times, Alfred patiently waited next to the desk.

"Oh. We did that last year as well. I guess you're just advancing it... Well, here goes. I can't explain it too well, though." He sighed and ripped out a paper from his math notebook, taking a pencil in his hand. He started scribbling four squares on the piece of paper, writing two letters in each of them. Alfred stared in confusion. "See, this letter shows a dominant gene. And this one shows the recessive one. Get it?"

"Um, yeah, I get that."

"Good. See, now when you combine them, you get an allele. They can also be recessive or dominant, depends on the genes it consists of. An allele is a pair of genes that appear on a particular location on a particular chromosome, but that's not as important as this part. They control the same characteristic, for example eye colour or hair colour. It's easy, let me show you an example."

Matthew drew another square, and Alfred was again trying his best to understand where each letter goes.  
After three examples, he kind of got the grasp of it, even though it was all still a bit blurry in his mind.

"I-I think I understand now." He said with a small hint of confidence in his voice.

"You do?"

"Yeah... Thanks, Matt."

"No need to thank me."

Alfred smiled at his brother and took the book back into his hands, along with the marker.  
Sitting back on his bed, he continued reading the rest of the paragraph and soon began solving those twenty pages he got for homework.

Screw extra work, he thought.

But one by one, he was done with it in no time. Only twenty minutes passed when he finished with the last task, proudly dropping the stack of papers on the bed next to where his pillow was.  
"There, I did it!"

"Can I check it just in case?" Matthew asked, taking the papers without waiting for an answer.

He scanned each solved task glancing over it, checking every single one for any mistakes that might had occurred.  
"Wow, you got them all right. Good work."

"R-really?!" Alfred's eyes glistened a little bit, showing pride of himself. "I actually understood something for once."

"Alfred, you're not stupid. You should have more confidence, and not just around our friends..." The younger American sighed, handing the papers back to Alfred. "I know how you truly feel, I live with you. I know that dad says a lot of mean things to you, but you should block those things out. They aren't the truth."

"What are you talking about? I feel fine!" Alfred tried to defend himself.

Matthew didn't reply. He looked at his brother top to bottom, noticing how tired he looked. His face was pale, and eyes still blurry from the tears. His hair was messy and clothing wrinkly, and he looked like a downright total wreck.  
He noticed how he began acting much quieter in school, and how he didn't shine with his usual confidence anymore. Nobody caught on as much, though. Everyone blamed it on the heaps of schoolwork he'd been getting.  
Of course, how would they know anyway? They didn't know what was happening inside of their best friend's four walls.

It wasn't only his father and school which tired Alfred out.

It was also the thought of not being good enough - for his brother, for his father, for his friends...

For Arthur.

Alfred was wrapped in the horrifying, constant fear of failure.  
And in his eyes, he had failed enough already.

My father is right. I can't become anything important in life if I continue like this.  
What am I going to do? Be a failed musician and live on the streets happy to earn a penny from the people passing by?

I have to get my shit together or I'll break down.

How long until everyone realizes how I feel?

Oh no, no, no, no.  
I'm not letting Gilbert, Liz, or Arthur know how I feel. I must be positive around them. I must smile.

It's for the best.

What does Arthur think of me? Maybe he thinks I'm a total idiot, but since I can be funny once in a while, he still hangs out with me. Or does he even want me in his sight?  
If he found out what a fucking mess I am, he'd probably never want to talk to me again.

I mean, who'd want to do anything with a failure like me anyway?

\- - -

It was just some minutes past 4 PM when Alfred got a phone call from Gilbert about the hangout they were going to have that afternoon.

"Hey, you comin'? Everyone's at my place already." The German asked.

"Sorry... Uh, my dad said I gotta stay home and study. You know, for the bio test next week and the math stuff, I guess."

"Ugh, fine... Man, your dad is too fucking strict."

Yeah, tell me about it.

"I know, I know. Anyway, I gotta go now before he catches me on my phone. Bye!"

Sighing, he ended the call with one simple tap and put his phone under the pillow, glaring at the bunch of math papers which sat on the bed. Oh, how he despised this.

His growling stomach reminded him he had eaten nothing today, but that was an issue for another time. Now he had to focus on the work.

How about I sneak into the kitchen and get myself at least something to eat?  
I know I'm not allowed out of my room, but... Dad's either sleeping or watching TV anyway. What do I have to lose?  
Oh, screw it. I'll just take the sandwich from my backpack. Any food is good food when you're hungry as fuck.

But as soon he was going to take the food out of his bag, his phone rang once again and the loudly turned up ringtone of Centuries by Fall Out Boy could be heard in the room.  
He took the phone into his hands, eyes widening at the name on the screen.

"It's Arthur." He mumbled to himself. "H-hey!" He cleared his throat and answered the phone.

He was never able to talk to Arthur like the boy was just his best friend.

"Hey. Gilbert told me that maybe if I convince you, you'll come here." Arthur's voice was irritated, and he sighed when he finished the sentence.

How can I say no to Arthur?!

I mean, there's absolutely no way for me to sneak out of my house.

"A-arthur, I really, really can't. I'm sorry. I'm basically locked in for the night", he chuckled as if it was a joke, but in reality it was too true to comprehend.

"Okay, good to know. Bye." And as soon as Arthur was going to uninterestedly hang up on him, he yelled out one word.

"Wait!"

"What?" The boy on the other side of the telephone line groaned, Alfred could almost see him rolling his eyes.

Alfred didn't know why he said it. He could have hung up and everything would go smoothly. What does he say now?

"Um, never mind. I-I'll talk to you in school tomorrow."

And he hung up, panicking at how embarrassing his voice sounded, and how he didn't know what to say or why he stopped Arthur from hanging up on him the first time.

Little did he know that on the other side of that line, Arthur was smiling at his phone, cheeks turned a dark red, grasping his phone tight at the thought of how cute, how wonderful Alfred Jones was to him.

And he wanted that American boy to be his.


	4. Not Good Enough

It was past midnight already.  
Alfred was laying down on his bed, staring at the dark ceiling of his room as he thought about so, so many things at once that he wasn't even able to sleep.

Matthew was soundly sleeping on his side of the room, light snoring escaping his throat once in a while.

Little did he know, his brother was still tossing and turning, not knowing what to do with himself.  
Truth be told, he was scared. Scared of what his father might do the next time he got mad, scared of how physically aggressive the man could become over the course of... Days.

He was happy that he at least wasn't hurting his little brother, though. If their dad layed a finger on Matthew, Alfred's anger would be unstoppable.

The father's words rang in his head, being repeated over and over again. It was a ritual that the American had already gotten used to over time. Every day, he got yelled at, shamed for not being as intelligent as his father wanted him to be.  
But Alfred wasn't stupid. All he needed was a light push and a bit of help, and everything would be fine.

Over the years their mother was gone, Alfred grew to think his father hated him. The way he acted and the things he had said all indicated only that, nothing else.

He missed his mum. She was a beautiful, passionate musician with a soul of gold and a heart of courage. She was the one who saw the music talent in her son, introduced him to piano and taught him the basics before signing him up for classes.  
Alfred loved it.  
But, she got weaker over time. Alfred remembered seeing her in bed a lot, visiting her in hospitals and never actually knowing why was it happening and what was happening to her at all.

To this day, Matthew and him didn't know why she passed away so early.  
An incurable illness, that was for sure. It weakened her completely.

A strong memory remained in Alfred like a scar across his heart - the last song she ever played to him on piano.

It was Chopin's valse, op. 64, no. 2. She played it gently, slowly, and once she finished, she looked at him and said it would be the last song she would ever play.  
And since that day, every time he heard it or played it, he couldn't help but tear up.

Alfred's mother wanted him to become a professional pianist and make her proud, and the boy thought that he would do exactly that, be great at it and achieve that goal. He wanted it with all his heart.  
But once the mother was gone, his dad didn't support him in that. He thought it was stupid, and wanted Alfred to become something that would actually give him a job, and not a profession with which he would end up homeless.

A small part of him still believed he could do music one day, be happy and proud about it, but most of him already got used to thinking he was nothing more than a failure destined to die young with no goals achieved.

Alfred was good at hiding his thoughts and feelings. Only to Matthew he could do it.  
His best friends found him cheerful, outgoing, extremely self - confident...

The opposite of who he really was.

He hoped Arthur didn't see through and realize what was actually going on inside of him.

Without noticing at first, the young boy began crying. He placed the palms of his hands over his face and quietly sobbed, soon burying his face into the pillow.

Why am I like this? Why am I so soft and fragile?

My dad is right. I will be nothing and nobody.

Why do I still exist, why am I still alive, what's my purpose if I'm going to spend the rest of my life in tears?

Arthur surely doesn't want me. If he ever met the real, broken me, he'd think I'm a loser.  
Hell, he probably thinks that already.

Why can't I be good enough?

Why can't I achieve anything?

Why can't I... Live?

\- - -

The next day, Matthew woke up first, but that wasn't anything different than usual.  
He got ready and woke his brother up so they had about fifteen minutes to catch the bus.

Alfred was awake after one call of his name, and blinked a couple of times in realization that it was morning, and he spent half of the night crying instead of getting the sleep he needed so badly.

School started off well, as the older American went to History first. And to top it all, they were learning about the Revolutionary war. Or, better said, expanding the knowledge they had about it from year eight. He didn't think they would learn about it so detailed, since this was England, but he was happy that they did.

"Question for you all. Do you know who was the first treasury secretary of the United States?" The history teacher asked the class, expecting at least a third of the class to know.  
But, only Alfred's hand was in the air, in the matter of milliseconds.

"Alexander Hamilton!" He said eagerly, earning a satisfied nod from the teacher.

"Good, that's correct. Second question..."

And so it went on and on, Alfred answering almost all of the questions. They ranged from 'what year was the battle of Yorktown' to 'who was the second president of the United States', but none of them were difficult. At least for him.

Being the only American in class, he was really interested in the topic, and some Brits looked down on him because of that.

Arthur certainly wasn't one of those. He loved Alfred's knowledge on the topic, and his interest in history. Even though he himself was more of a sporty type, having someone to converse about history with was truly amazing.

"Right, so... Alfred answered ten questions, Arthur answered four and Emma answered one. Good job! These questions will be in the exam, so I hope you all followed in class today." The young professor scribbled something down in the school directory.  
"Alfred, you don't have to take the test since you've answered most of the questions."

Hell, yes! Researching this was so worth it.

"Thank you!" He replied with a grin, and Elizabeta whispered a 'congrats' in his ear, leaning against him for a moment.

Ah, if only all classes were as good as History.

Of course, to ruin his day which started off fairly fine, there came Biology class.

Everyone handed in their work, the ten pages they had to fill in, except Alfred who brought his twenty pages of suffering nicely folded in a file.

"Today, we have oral exams. I hope you're all prepared." The teacher's low, kind of uninterested voice stated, and Alfred's brows furrowed in surprise.

He leaned over to Elizabeta, whispering to her. "Oral exams? When did he say that?!"  
She sighed and shrugged her soldiers, a bit of fear visible inside of her green eyes. Both of them were equally unprepared. Even though Alfred studied, he only did one page, enough to write the homework. He certainly wasn't prepared for answering questions on thirty pages of the book.

"Alright... First up, Alfred Jones."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He muttered under his breath, Elizabeta giving him a nod of support as he stood up and walked in front of the board.

His body was very close to shaking, and his hands were sweating out of the anxiety he felt about failing this completely - which was probably about to happen.

"Did you study for today, Alfred?" The teacher asked him as he went through his question book.

"N-no, sir, I haven't done much."

"Great, off to a good start, aren't we?" Sarcasm dripped from the elder's voice, making the boy shudder a little.  
He didn't know what was worse - the whole class watching him fail or Arthur watching him fail.

"Describe a DNA molecule."

"Uh... It has a, um, a core and... Atoms?" Alfred was uncertain about the answer, knowing it was wrong. "I-I don't know."

"Who founded genetics?"

"...Was it Darwin? N-no, that's evolution... I, uh. I don't know." By the second question, he was already stumbling across his words, not knowing the answer to any of the things the teacher asked him. He studied one page out of thirty, and it was only about those damned genotypes!

"What's a genome?"

"A bunch of genes... Tied together...?"

"Alfred, did you study anything for today?" The Biology professor sternly looked at the anxious boy, noticing how he was close to tears.  
He had to be honest, Alfred didn't look well. But the teacher wasn't too interested about a student's well-being, all he wanted was for the students to pass the goddamn class, get his paycheck and leave for holidays.

Students like this always drove him crazy with their complete ignorance on the topic.

"No. I'm really sorry, I was focusing on--"

"Sorry doesn't work with me, Jones. It's an F today, you can fix it with the upcoming test." A hand motion which said go followed the teacher's harsh words.

Alfred nodded, looking down in shame as he walked back to his seat next to Elizabeta who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, mumbling something along the lines of it's fine.  
But all he gave was a fake smile and shrugging of his shoulders.

Oh, it certainly wasn't fine.

\- - -

At lunchbreak, everyone was studying.

All of Alfred's friends had their noses stuck in a book, and only he forgot to bring his.

Everybody was preparing for tests - Matthew for English, Gilbert for History, and the ones who went to the same class all studied Geography for the next period.

At least he got to share and read together with Arthur.

But oh, that brought a really big discomfort as well. The blonde English boy had his body pressed against the American's, reading the same pages side by side. He could hear the other softly mumble the words in a gentle, British accent, and Alfred felt hot.  
Arthur was so attractive, and so close to him. He felt as if he was going to pass out from the anxiety, his breathing getting almost frantic. There was so little oxygen in the room...

"Alfred, you alright?" Arthur looked at the blushing American with confusion.

"Y-yeah, just anxious about Geography, I guess."

"Sure you are." Arthur smirked a little, feeling his face warmly flush as well.

As the two boys flustered around each other and continued reading, the rest of the squad unnoticeably raised their looks towards them, all smirking.

"Get a room." The youngest out of them all, Matthew, stated, and then everyone burst into laughter and snapped out of the seriousness.

God, Alfred is attractive.

I want to have him even closer to myself than just reading a Geography book together at lunchbreak.

And I'm starting to sense that he wants to do the same...


	5. Don't Break

After lunchbreak and the heaviness of laughter at Alfred's and Arthur's silent excitement from being around each other, the students all went back to their classes once the bell had rung marking the beginning of the next period.

For Alfred's class, it wasn't going to be an easy one. A not so big, but difficult Geography exam awaited each student on the desk when they got in, and all the teacher said was one sentence.

"You have forty-five minutes to do this, start now."

Alfred sat next to Elizabeta, and whispered a 'good luck' to the girl before picking up the pencil and glancing over the two pages of the exam.  
In all honesty, he didn't study for this so much. So all he was able to do was write it, and see what turns out.

Okay, it won't be too difficult.

Name, Alfred Jones. Date... Uh... I'll skip that, it's not important anyway.

Let's see this. Question one.

What? How am I supposed to know how many counties does England have? Not my fault I lived in the States for twelve years of my life.  
I'll just put ten.

The clock could be heard ticking from the back of the classroom, and all it did to Alfred was boil even more anxiety inside of him. Soon enough, all he heard was the rhythmic ticking of the clock taking over his mind, and he wasn't able to focus on the goddamn questions.  
His breathing was getting shallow, and he felt as if there was something in his throat, choking him until he was completely out of breath.

Come on, Alfred. Focus. At least you're not failing geography. Forget about it all. Focus on the exam. Just a little bit more...

As he reached question seven, not having as much trouble with it as he thought he would have, he was almost finished with the exam.

Only one more question.

Um... Fuck. I should know these. I do know these, wait a little.  
Okay, let's do a speed round. Circle the correct answers. Answer one, answer three, answer two, answer one again.

Great, I finished at last. Let's hand it in and get out of here before I get an anxiety attack in front of the class.

Letting out a breath from slight relaxation, he stood up from his seat and handed in the exam to the teacher, who just nodded and took it without a word said.  
Once he had looked around, Alfred noticed he was the only one who handed in the paper. Was it that difficult? He didn't have too much trouble with it after question one.  
He picked up his backpack and waved to his friends before leaving with a mutter of 'goodbye' towards the teacher.

When the students were done with the tests, they were usually allowed to go to the library or hang out in the hallways as long as they stayed quiet. They just weren't allowed to go outside of school for nothing more but safety reasons.

Alfred wasn't going to the library, though. Leaving his backpack on a bench outside of the Geography classroom, he quickly ran into the boys' bathroom and slammed the door behind himself, almost falling to the floor from the tension which boiled inside of him.

He didn't understand what was going on, what was happening to him. He had no reason to feel down now, but something still pressured him and made him lose breath more and more by each second.

It could have easily been the lack of sleep he was getting. The lack of food in the past days. Anything.

Rethinking whether he should go to the school nurse just in case or not, he found himself on the bathroom floor, a moment away from bursting into tears. But he held it in, like he always did when he was at school, or anywhere that wasn't his room.

"Alfred?"

An awfully familiar voice snapped him out of his mind-devouring thoughts, and he turned his head around quickly just to find...

"A-arthur? What are you doing here?" The American's shaky voice almost cracked near the end, and the Brit in front of him felt immediately worried at seeing him like that.

"I could ask you the same question! Alfred, what are you doing on the bloody bathroom floor?" Arthur's worry was visible, and he offered a hand for the other to stand up, his cheeks turning a light shade of red when the other grasped his hand and got up with a small whimper.

Alfred didn't respond to his question, though. Now feeling extremely embarrassed being found by Arthur like this, he avoided eye contact with his friend and tried to smile at least a little. "Thanks." He softly said as gratitude towards the other.

"Now tell me, are you feeling alright? You don't look alright."

"I'm fine, don't worry about me. Just felt tense about stuff." The American boy answered with a flustered chuckle following his words.

"You seem out of place these days, a-and I'm just really worried about you..."

Oh, hell, no. Arthur is the last person I would want to know about all the shit that's happening.  
I can't let it happen, I just can't.  
When did laughing off the bad things become difficult?

"I told you, I'm alright. Trust me, Artie."

Not even noticing they didn't let go, the two boys didn't stop holding hands after Alfred got off the floor, and the closeness they experienced between each other was now killing them both.  
Once they noticed, both boys quickly pulled away and felt even more flustered than they already were.

"Alright, if you say so. But if anything's wrong, you know you can tell me. We're best friends." The English boy tenderly spoke, his voice much softer than it usually was - which exposed the infinite amount of care he had for the American.

If I were in any luck, we'd be much more than best friends, both of them thought, not knowing that the other actually felt exactly the same.

Little did they know, they weren't the only ones finished with the Geography exam earlier than they should have been.  
A friend of theirs overheard them from the outside, silently opening the bathroom door so the two boys wouldn't notice.

"Just kiss already!"

"Elizabeta?!" Alfred and Arthur almost shouted out, in unison, both turning towards the brown haired girl who stood spying outside of the boys' bathroom with a smirk on her face.

"What, can't I spy on my two best friends who were about to make out in the bathroom?" She grinned and silently laughed at their mortified facial expressions.

"We were not!" Alfred stated, maybe a little too loudly so it echoed through the hallway.

"Oh, but you should have! I mean everyone except you knows that---"

As soon as Elizabeta was going to tell them what was actually going on between them and how they were the only ones who didn't know that they liked each other, the school bell rang announcing the end of class.

The two boys were left speechless, gaping mouths as they stared at their friend.

"Wait, what does everyone know?!" Alfred yelled after her, but she was already gone in the hurry towards the next class, leaving only a faint laugh behind.

It couldn't have gotten more awkward than this.

\- - -

Geography class and that awkward moment in the bathroom with Arthur was followed by, unfortunately, Maths.  
He didn't know whether he would be able to look his friend in the eyes ever the same, but nevertheless he sat next to Arthur at their shared desk and took out the almost completely filled math notebook which looked too messy to even comprehend.

The Brit made a swift, unnoticeable glance towards the young American sitting next to him and prepared for class.

"Today, we're working on solving linear equations with two variables, but not with whole numbers. With fractions, instead. Open up your textbooks on page sixty-eight." The redhead teacher announced, writing a bunch of numbers joined by an x and a y, drawing a line underneath it.

"I forgot my textbook." Alfred leaned into Arthur and whispered, the blonde English boy wordlessly moving the book towards the centre of the desk so they both could read from it.

The class was uninteresting, and the American didn't understand a single thing what the teacher was trying to explain on the board. It was just a really weird mixture of numbers for him, but maybe that was because his mind was somewhere else, in a completely different world.

He was thinking about Arthur, and the words Elizabeta didn't get to finish.

What was that all about?

What if Arthur actually likes me back? I know it seems pretty darn impossible, but I can never know for sure if I don't ask.

But maybe I'm getting all of this wrong. If I do ask, there are two ways it could go. One, he rejects me and laughs at how I even thought of it in the first place, and two, he actually returns my feelings and we kiss, and hug and everything goes so...

"Alfred!" He felt someone - better said, Arthur - push him a little, along with a whisper yell which indicated he stopped paying attention to class completely, stuck in his daydream. "Professor asked you for the answer to task five."

"T-there were tasks?" He asked a bit too loudly, hearing the professor sigh out of exasperation. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, he looked down at the textbook and quickly circled task five. How long was he lost in his own world?!

"Yes, Alfred. There are tasks. Ten of them, and I want you to tell me the answer to the fifth."

"Um... I don't understand how to do this." Straight up and honest, Alfred replied and bit his lip in fear, unease and panic.

"You didn't even follow when I was explaining!" The professor was irritated, slamming a textbook on her work desk, a movement which startled the entire class to the core. "Listen, I'm sick of you never paying attention, getting F's in exams and then politely asking to fix your mark every single bloody time. Either you will do your work, or you're not going to pass this class at all. Summer school is guaranteed, Alfred."

The boy didn't respond to the threat. All he did was look down at the book, took a pencil in his hand and began writing the tasks one by one, nicely writing each number out. Even though he didn't know the solution to any of them.

Arthur looked at him with a saddened expression, not understanding what happened to the usually always cheerful, loud American boy who filled with heart with love, what happened to the good student he used to be when he first came to England. Was Alfred really that lazy or was there something more behind it?

Alerting Alfred by a poke on the shoulder, the Brit began scribbling a message onto the desk for the other to read.

Stay with me for a little while after school.


	6. Doubt

Alfred confusingly stared at the little written out message on the desk, before turning to Arthur with a nod of confirmation.  
Why would Arthur call him to stay with him after school, he didn't know, but it was worth doing it. Even though he wasn't allowed to.

Whenever Alfred got home from school late, there would be much more yelling involved with his father, however this time the boy didn't care the slightest. Though would never admit it to anyone, he was scared of his dad and how bad the situation might get supposing that he angered the man enough - if only he could avoid seeing him at home and somehow sneak into his room without getting noticed.

But since this was for Arthur, it was worth it.

Math class ended, and so did two more classes before the end of this mortifying, tiring school day for not only Alfred, but everyone. He exited the classroom with Elizabeta and the Brit, chatting about today's History class since it was the only positive thing to happen in the day.

Arthur seemed to have enjoyed the conversation, but he needed to talk to Alfred about something much more serious.

Saying their goodbyes to Elizabeta, the two boys stayed in the school back yard to have their little chat just as promised.

"Alfred," Arthur began speaking, pulling the other with him to a safe place for the conversation to be held, "are you really okay?" A pair of concerned forest green eyes met two gorgeous, gorgeous sky blue eyes which showed a whole burning mixture of emotions inside of them.

"Uh, why wouldn't I be?" Alfred managed to free himself from Arthur's tight grip on his forearm, holding his backpack with one hand as it was clumsily placed over his shoulders.

"You've been acting too strange lately, and I've just begun to notice it. You don't pay attention in class anymore, you don't study, you're close to failing half of the bloody subjects, and most importantly, you don't seem as happy as you used to be anymore! What's going on, Alfred? I'm worried sick about you and all I keep getting is an 'I'm fine', even after seeing you about to break down in the bathroom!"  
His voice was almost high pitched, and it seemed he was about to cry.

Alfred stared for a moment, nervously shifting his feet on the ground. "I-I see."  
For a moment, he felt so small, vulnerable, as if his heart was made of glass for anyone to shatter if they weren't careful enough with it.

"So? Are you going to tell me?"

"A-arthur, I don't think I can. It's personal, kind of weird, to be honest..." The American weakly chuckled and began staring down at the grassy ground of the school back yard.

"Alfred..." The other got closer, gently taking Alfred's soft, warm hands into his own and looking at the boy with complete seriousness. "Is someone hurting you?"

Alfred's heart skipped a beat, again from that same, strange but so wonderful closeness he shared with Arthur. This time, however, it was different. It was an instant connection between the two, and both were able to feel it deeply settle somewhere inside.

"No." He spoke shakily. "No one is hurting me, okay?"

"You don't seem confident saying that."

"I am, though. Nothing of that kind is happening, j-just can we please change the topic?" Alfred's voice was pleading, and Arthur didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already felt.  
Maybe he was telling the truth, just maybe. But Arthur was sure going to keep an eye on him in case something bad was going to happen.

"Fine. Are you going home by foot? I-I mean, we probably missed the bus..."

"Well, yeah, I am. Matt's home already, though, since he had less classes today. Want to go with me then?"

"Of course." Arthur replied, not letting go of Alfred's hand. He was warm to hold and both of them loved it, not saying a word about it to each other.

Slowly making their way home and chatting about random things that came to their mind, Alfred and Arthur walked for more than thirty minutes, stopping about five times to catch breath from the laughter.  
Lovers or friends, sometimes it didn't matter, because they always loved every single moment that they were together. Whether it was reading a geography book at lunchbreak side by side or a peaceful walk home, they enjoyed every single bit of it, and nothing was able to separate them.  
Lost in small talk with Arthur, Alfred forgot about his father, his troubles and that dreadful geography class, and all he knew of was laughter.

He hadn't truly laughed in a while.

Once they reached Alfred's street, that was the time to finally (and sadly) separate. Followed by a long sigh from both of them, they stopped to say their goodbyes.

"So... Anyway, thanks for walking home with me." Alfred smiled, face becoming slightly red.

"No need to thank me, Alfred. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah, see 'ya!" He waved and turned around to run a few extra meters and finally reach his house.

I don't know what's going on in his private life, and it's fine for him to hide whatever he wants... As long as someone really isn't hurting him.  
Then I simply must know. Someone as kindhearted and wonderful as him doesn't deserve to be treated badly.

I guess I'll find out one day.

\- - -

"I'm home", Alfred announced in a monotone voice and dropped his backpack on the hallway floor before quickly stepping into the living room.  
He was awaited with Matthew in the kitchen, and by the smell, he was making store bought soup for lunch. He was kind of surprised that his dad and brother hadn't eaten earlier, before he came home.

"Where have you been?" A stern voice asked the question, tone really angry. Alfred's father dropped the newspaper onto the kitchen counter harshly, glaring at his son which stood there knowing that he made a mistake... Again.  
Alfred wanted to run to his room, but that would just make the man even angrier.

So he just stood, waiting for the impact of the loud yelling that was about to come.

"Uh, I was with a friend... H-he helped me with math." He lied, well, only half of it was a lie.

"You were supposed to be home almost an hour ago and do chores, remember? But, oh, I bet you think you're so goddamn fucking smart and don't need to do anything around here! Who were you with?"

Hah, if only I could think of myself as smart.

"I was with Arthur."

At the words, Matthew glanced at him a little from the kitchen, wondering if his brother was finally able to get some alone time with the Brit and start it off like they should have started it off years ago.

"I don't know who the hell Arthur is, but I don't fucking care anyway! First, you don't do your schoolwork. Then, you fail all classes. Then you stop doing chores and start getting home far too late? Well I'm very sorry, but, that's not how we do things in this house! I know what you're going to do next. Cry a little, say you're sorry, do some of your work and play that damn piano of yours thinking how it's some kind of escaping from your pain but what kind of fucking pain do you even have? You're just lazy! Can you even hear me? You're just lazy! Your Biology teacher called in, said you failed your oral exam today. What, you thought you were going to hide that for a while until you fix it? I am so close to hitting your fucking face so strong you get your shit together and do something!"

Alfred stood there, listening to every word his father threw at him and thinking about how long this was going to last. He had already had enough of it, and as if the school day wasn't terrible enough, a long fucking monologue had to await him at home.

If only his father weren't right about all the things he said. But... He was. At least to Alfred.

But at the mention of being hit, he jumped a little and took a step back from the furious man advancing towards him with dark red cheeks and a high temper which hadn't burned out yet.

"Honestly, I've had enough for today! I'm really trying to work on my things, why can't you just understand that maybe I can't fucking do it without help?!" Alfred lost it for a moment, yelling out what he thought, not ready for his dad's reaction.

Suddenly, he was grabbed by his shoulders, and he let out a yelp from the surprise. "W-what are you--"

"Do not speak to me like that! Who do you think you are?!"

Alfred's whole body was shaking, and he closed his eyes on a moment to avoid contact with the blonde man who held him a little bit too tightly by the shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I just--"

"I don't want to hear another word!"

"But--"

And then it happened.

What the American had been dreading for so long, and always tried to avoid... But the simplest mistake was able to activate his father's anger.

A loud thud could be heard in the room, and Alfred found himself backside on the wooden floor, letting out a shriek of pain in the process before placing a hand on the side of his face.

"Alfred!" Matthew almost dropped a plate, realizing what just happened, and yelled out with a terrorized, bewildered expression on his face.

"You better not come out of your room until tomorrow, understood?" Their dad threatened the boy, and Alfred didn't know what else to do but scramble up from the floor and run, run as fast as he could to his room, locking the door once he got in.

Everything he had ever feared since his father first showed aggressive behavior was that he would get hit and that he would be in pain from his own father's hands.  
And through the years, he thought that, huh, maybe he could get away without the physical pain.

Now he cried silently, engulfed by only the warmth of his pillow mixed with cold fear which absorbed him from the inside.

Not a single day could pass in the Jones household without Alfred breaking into tears.

And now he felt like the world stopped spinning and the sun would never, ever come out again.

If Arthur didn't make me smile today, I'd hurt myself so badly that I wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a whole month.

But for Arthur, I'll get through this pain so I can see him another day.

Who knows, any day could be the last day that I see that boy.

That's why I cherish him so much.


	7. Gentle

A little bit more than half an hour later, once Alfred's father had completely calmed down from his anger breakdown and fell asleep on the couch, Matthew took a bowl of soup and a spoon, and snuck over to the room he shared with his brother.  
It was locked, but since the older American was so used to locking the door behind him, Matthew knew that having a spare key with him would come in handy. Carefully balancing the soup so it wouldn't fall, he took the key from the hanger in the hallway and unlocked the white door.

His brother seemed to be asleep, but Matthew was too experienced not to know that he actually wasn't sleeping.

"Alfred, I brought you some soup." The younger boy said softly and placed the food on Alfred's work desk.

What was happening to Alfred was a huge devastation to Matthew as well, and he couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't remember when exactly all the yelling and insulting began, but it was some time after they moved to London.  
Before that, in America, they were all a happy little family that hadn't had absolutely a single care in the world. Well, almost.

"I don't want to eat." He heard a muffled, weak voice from the bed and sighed.

"You have to. You barely eat. Only a bit at school and at home here and there. You haven't had a real meal in a while."

"...Fine." Knowing he'd lost, Alfred complied and slowly got off the bed, sniffling a little and wiping off the remaining tears from the side of his face. He sat by the desk and took the spoon in his hands, slowly tasting a bit of the warm, freshly cooked meal. "Thanks." He said insecurely, and all Matthew could do was embrace him into a warm hug, which the other quickly returned. Oh, the things Alfred would give to just cry everything out, the years of built up pain and anger he only kept to himself.  
But, he couldn't. He didn't want to do that to Matthew and make him even more worried than he already was.

"I can do your chores while dad's asleep. You know, clean the room and his room too." The younger brother suggested, but Alfred simply waved his hand in dismiss.

"I'll do it later, don't bother."

Sitting on his bed while his brother was eating, Matthew let out a long sigh and looked over to the boy at the desk. In comparison with how he looked a few weeks ago, Alfred now looked completely tired out by everything. That remaining sparkle deep within his eyes was now gone, and it seemed as if there was no will for life inside of him anymore.

But Matthew also knew that Arthur was his will to live.

"Hey Al, can I ask you something?" He curiously asked, trying to find a way to distract both himself and his brother from the bad things.

"Go ahead." Alfred did a spin in his chair to face the shorter boy.

"Why don't you just ask Arthur out? I-I mean, everybody knows you like him. A lot."

Alfred almost choked on soup after the question, eyes widening and face turning red since it was his little brother asking this question. "U-uh..." He stuttered, not knowing how to respond. "I don't think he feels the same about me, and I'm not risking losing a best friend over such a stupid thing."

"Alfred, are you completely oblivious? It's so obvious he likes you too!"

"Y-you think he likes me?"

"I don't think so. I know he does. He didn't tell me, but, from what we all collected, you two would make a really great couple. I don't know why you just don't go for it."

"Wait a minute..." Alfred mumbled, furrowing his eyebrows in a final conclusion to the unfinished words of Elizabeta's. "That's what Liz told us today! She spied on us and told us that everybody except the two of us know that we like each other."

"I wasn't there, but she sure was right," Matthew responded and casually shrugged his shoulders.

"So I should really do it?" The older boy doubted himself once again, a strange jittery feeling suddenly appearing inside of him.

There's a chance Arthur likes me back!

Matthew nodded with a small smile as a way of confirming the words, and he could already feel the tension in his brother. He couldn't help but chuckle.  
He personally didn't really like boys in a way Alfred did, but he was the most accepting person in the world. The only person that Alfred had officially come out to, about a year ago when Matthew first questioned about it. They celebrated a little in secret, and Matt even sewed a little pride flag that Alfred cherished with all his heart, hiding it in a box of all his most precious, small belongings.  
One of the things in the box was a paper, a neatly folded paper which had musical notes written all over it - it was a song his mother began composing only some time before she passed away. She knew she couldn't finish it, so she gave the first page to Alfred and scribbled 'I hope you finish it one day!' on the bottom of the page.

"Should I just send him a text now or do I wait for school tomorrow?"

"Do as you please, he's going to say yes any way or the other", Matthew giggled and playfully rolled his eyes at his older brother who was obviously under pressure.

Alfred got up and swiftly grabbed his phone which was on his nightstand, typing in his password before noticing he had one unread message... From Arthur.

Hesitantly, he clicked on it to see what it read.

Your math notebook is at my place, I must have accidentally took it.  
Anyway, that's not why I texted. Wanna grab some food together tonight? If you're allowed to.

"...He's asking me to hang out tonight." He muttered under his breath, and Matthew curiously raised an eyebrow.

"Who is? Arthur?"

"Yeah... Shit, and I can't go anywhere 'til the end of the week. I forgot about that."

"Sneak out for the night. As if dad would notice anyway." Matthew suggested, although that most definitely wasn't going to happen. Alfred was in too much fear to try anything like that.

Shaking his head, he let out a dissapproving hum and sighed. "No way. I'm not risking."

"...Then how do we get you out of the house?"

"Well, maybe dad would let me go if we both went somewhere. He trusts you more than anyone." Alfred made his suggestion, but still doubted that his father would let him go.

"Alfred, do you really want your little brother present when you're about to make out with your damn future boyfriend?" The younger American smirked, crossing his arms as he looked at his utterly confused brother.

And yes, Matthew had a pretty good point.

"W-well... What do I do then?"

"I have no clue..."

Not even noticing that the remaining bits of soup were already getting cold, the two boys were caught up in a long conversation on how to get Alfred out of the house and make him ask Arthur out on an actual date.

Finding out that there's a seriously high chance that the Brit likes him back was an amazing, but kind of terrifying and overwhelming surprise for Alfred.

He just had to do this right, and he would have the boy of his dreams.

Maybe then, he could be happy again.

\- - -

Arthur was having a crisis. He didn't remember the last time that happened, but it was never because he was so hopelessly in love with someone, and was questioning everything about that person from top to bottom and on the inside.

Until now.

Alfred took over his mind, and he couldn't help but ask himself was the boy actually alright. He did mention some kind of personal issue, but what could that goddamn be?  
But even with his visible insecurity and fragile soul that only Arthur was able to see through and know what the other had felt - well, almost, since he didn't know the cause of the feeling - Alfred Jones was perfect to him in absolutely every way. That childish grin he showed whenever he was and wasn't happy, that oh, so wonderful dusty blonde hair with a strange piece of hair that seemed to never settle in place, those gorgeous blue eyes like two sparkly lakes which glistened behind a pair of glasses and made him even cuter than he already was. He looked so handsome in that blue jacket of his that he almost always wore, had such a perfect waist and a very nice build. His laugh was the brightest one Arthur had ever heard, and his hands the softest hands Arthur had ever held. Alfred was funny, cute, kind, simply perfect...

Arthur just wanted to hold him, hug him, kiss him and touch him the way he had never touched anyone before.  
He wanted the American to be his, and only his.

Now, the exhausted Brit was checking his phone every three minutes to see if he received a response, but every time he checked, there was nothing.  
Truth be told, he didn't expect Alfred to be able to go out with him even if he wanted to, because the boy didn't go out a lot. And that was another thing that greatly concerned him. A lot of the times the squad asked Alfred to hang out with them, he would reply with something along the lines of 'can't, I'm locked in for today' or a similar phrase. Even though he said it as a joke... What if there was something more behind it?  
He personally never visited Alfred's house, none of their friends did, and the American strictly avoided calling them over.

There were so many possibilities why Alfred's world looked like it was breaking apart, but all Arthur could do was keep being the best possible friend he could and help him get to the old, happy state he was always in.

But oh, how wonderful it would be if Alfred went out with him.

Just for one night.

Just one.


	8. Simple Explanation

A little less than an hour had passed since Alfred and Matthew lost themselves in the conversation, and it was such a relief to get their minds away from what had happened earlier, when Alfred arrived home late.  
Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to come up with a working plan to get the boy on a date, and he had to text Arthur that he wasn't allowed to go. It was a bit of a downer for Alfred, but what to be done - was done.

Now, Matthew was silently doing his work for English class while Alfred didn't have the nerves to bother with all the boring and difficult school work such as math, biology or anything of that type, so he decided to rather go with music theory.  
Music theory was always his favourite subject along with his piano classes, and he was glad that he was still able to attend a music school whatsoever. He loved it with all his heart, and didn't find it so difficult at all. Piano class, on the other hand, was really interesting but more difficult and he was awfully passionate about it, yet Alfred didn't have a proper pianoforte after six years of doing music.  
He loved his piano, of course, but for such a high level of schooling he needed a real, upright piano. Still, that was quite the impossible task to achieve. His father would never agree on buying him a piano when he wanted this one out of the house as well.

Alfred didn't understand why.

Writing down the notes in his music notebook, Alfred thought about how amazing it would be to actually be a musician. A real one, who holds concerts and enchants people with just the sound of their instrument. He used to play at his school musical concerts when he was younger, but that just... Stopped. There wasn't as much time on his hands for practising, and when he did it, there was a high chance he'd get yelled at to stop. His dad, unlike his mother, pursued him to quit doing music, but there wasn't an obstacle in this world tough enough to stop Alfred from doing what he loved the most.

One day, he would hold a concert. One day, he would finish that piece his mother started composing. All of that would happen one day, if he worked hard enough.

There were days when Alfred thought he wasn't able to live another day, and moments when he wanted to end his misery once and for all. Over the time, those days got more and more frequent, but nobody knew about it. But, he never did it. He knew that if he really goes through with it, he would never be able to see Matthew, his friends and Arthur ever again... And that thought hurt his chest like no other.

Speaking of Arthur, he wanted to give him a ring just to hear how he was doing and what he was up to. A friendly conversation, at least, since he wasn't able to go out with him tonight.

That would make him feel at least a little bit happier.

"There, I'm done." Alfred sighed and dropped his pencil on the surface of the table, finishing his music theory work for the day.

"Are you going to do the rest of your work?" Matthew curiously asked, not moving his look from the heaps of math tasks on the desk.

"A bit later. I have a phone call to make."

\- - -

Arthur was tossing and turning on the bed, headphones on and turned up to the highest so it could successfully isolate him from the world around while he was burning with thoughts. So many things were coming to his mind, and he didn't have the strength to get up and do his work.

What if Alfred doesn't want to go out?  
No, I doubt it's that. It's Thursday, dammit, it's not that we have a lot to study for Friday anyway! Why is he stuck in his room all the time?

Why is he---

His chain of questions with no answers was interrupted by his silent cell phone flashing a phone call on the screen, and when he saw who the person calling was, he could have sworn he experienced a momentary heart attack.  
Turning off the music, he took off his headphones and swiped right to answer the call.

"Alfred! Hi!" He greeted the oter with a bit too much enthusiasm in his voice, his body feeling warm already just from knowing he would hear Alfred's voice.

"Hi, uh, I just called to hear how you're doing." The American's voice wasn't as enthusiastic, but more shy and a bit hoarse from the crying he had, sadly, done earlier. "Oh, and sorry I can't hang out today."

"Y-you don't need to apologize, but, what about Saturday then? You surely don't have to do much work on Saturday."

"I-I'll see! I hope I can, though." Alfred chuckled a bit, but it wasn't a happy chuckle for sure. It was more of a sound one lets out during moments of nervousness or dissapointment in themselves. A bitter chuckle which works as a pain release.

And Arthur noticed that. He knew that wasn't the usual 'hey, I'm cheerful and I'll probably jump and hug you' laugh that his American friend used to always have, it was a 'hey, I really have a big problem but I'm trying to stay positive' kind of laugh that sent shivers down the Brit's spine.

"Great, great... But we can stay a little after school tomorrow, right?" The Brit was careful with his questions just in case.

That was a question Alfred was trying to avoid. As much as he dearly wanted to hang out and be with Arthur after school, he knew it was too risky to have his father awfully angry at him once again over the same thing two days in a row. He was especially frightened of the man since everything got so real, today marking the first day when he got actually physically hurt by more than just a not so gentle slap. Was it the feeling of having power over Alfred when he did it the reason why he did it, the boy didn't understand. He just wanted it to stop.

"Uh..." Alfred was lost again, not knowing how to respond. "Yeah, we can. I'm looking forward to that."

I've said it once, I'll say it again.  
It's for Arthur, so it's worth it.

But Arthur wasn't so convinced by the shaky sound of the American's voice when he said he looked forward to it. "Are you sure? If you can't, that's completely okay."  
Everything that was happening with Alfred wasn't exactly sudden, it went on for months and months and he got worse but he was really, really good at hiding it.  
Arthur saw through him, and only now understood that his precious American actually definitely wasn't the happiest person.

He wondered whether he was happy at all.

"I can, don't 'ya worry."

"...Right. So how is piano going? Made any new songs?"

"I didn't do much lately, to be honest. It'd be pretty cool if we met up and did a song together once! You know, like we did a few times before already. You with the guitar, me with the piano..."

Arthur, indeed, played the acoustic guitar. He was self - taught, unlike Alfred who took classes, but was amazingly good at it. He only wanted it to be his hobby, and not a professional career for life, so he could have some fun with it and play for his friends once in a while.  
But with all the schoolwork and stress for soon going to college, he didn't have much time so the instrument was already dusty in the back of the closet.

For Alfred, though, he'd definitely start playing again.

"See, I haven't thought of that. But it sure would be great. You know what? Meet me at the music school after class tomorrow. I'll bring my guitar." Arthur's lips couldn't help but form a smirk, soon escalating into a smile and an airy laugh.

"Great! Then it's settled."

"It sure is."

They spent almost a minute in silence, too confused and too shy to say anything, until they finally said their goodbyes - which lasted about half a minute - and hung up on the phone.  
Arthur dropped the small device on the bed next to himself, and sighed in relaxation, closing his eyes to imagine how beautiful it would be to have Alfred close to him.

And on the other side, a certain American thought how beautiful it would be to have Arthur close to him.

In a way, they were so close to each other, but so far apart.

\- - -

"...I'm going to play a song with him tomorrow." Alfred breathily spoke towards Matthew, and the younger brother wholeheartedly smiled.

"That's wonderful, it really is. Just don't get home too late, okay? I don't want anything bad happening to you."

To have a brother like Matthew was the sweetest thing in the world, and it was so admirable how the younger cared for him, showed his care in all ways possible whether it was bringing a bowl of warm soup after a rough time or just being there for him and talking to take their mind off of terrible moments they didn't want to remember.

"I'll be fine. Y-you know... It's strange how I'm willing to risk everything just to be with Arthur. I don't understand it, to be honest." Alfred returned the smile, but it definitely wasn't as bright.

"There's only one simple explanation for it, Al."

"And that is...?"

"It's love, you idiot."


	9. Music

Evening has fallen upon London, bringing upon the sky a beautiful purple colour and a fresh breeze in the cold, November air. People were mostly at home and the city seemed to be at peace, no trouble and no worry. Some men and women hung out at pubs, but the students stayed in their rooms working or chatting their uneasiness off with friends.

Alfred and Matthew were one of those.

Once their father went outside of the house, the older Jones brother immediately sat by the piano and began practising, considering piano class was tomorrow and he didn't work on any of his etudes for about two days. And for him, that was a lot of time spent without practice.

"Fuck, I keep failing on the second part!" Alfred yelled out in frustration, throwing the music sheets for one of Czerny's etudes on the floor before sighing in exasperation. Matthew listened to him practise while aimlessly scrolling on his phone, finally finished with all of his homework. The younger even did Alfred's chores, even though his brother told him that he'd do it himself. He just felt like being a helping hand for the one who needed it the most.

"Hm, that etude isn't even interesting. How about you play some Mozart?" He suggested to Alfred who let out a hum of disagreement.

"As much as I'd love to, I need to get this one to perfection. It's taking too long already." And with those words, he picked up the music sheets marked Czerny, Etude op. 299 no. 11 once again and slowly began playing from the second part, paying much more attention to the chords in the left hand rather than the melody in the right hand, since they were a bit more difficult to remember.  
His fingers almost effortlessly touched the keys and created magical sounds, and if someone payed close enough attention to it, they would be able to hear the emotions which graced those sounds. It wasn't always love and happiness, no. There was pain, anger, frustration and fear, a mixture of all human emotions all at once, all produced by a simple press of a chord.

"Goddammit, now I can't get the last part right! I always press a G major chord instead of a dominant seventh. And then I mess up the melody as well." He explained his frustrations to Matthew, who just shrugged his shoulders.

"It literally sounds the same with a fifth or a dominant seventh." The younger stated, earning a huff from Alfred.

"Not to me! Listen to this one. This is how it would sound with a fifth." Alfred fought, playing one beat of the etude. "And this is how it sounds with a seventh." He now played the correct version, this time getting it right.

"I made you play it correctly, though, didn't I?" Matthew turned his head towards the brother, smirking just slightly in victory.

"...Damn, you did." Alfred laughed, returning to the piece and playing it one more time from the beginning to the absolute last note without a single mistake, feeling proud of himself for finally achieving that. True, it would need a few more times to completely perfect it, but for now this was a tiny bit of success.  
Next in line was Haydn's sonata, and the boy picked up another few pages of dropped, already old and ripped apart music sheets which were untidily marked Haydn, Sonata XVI 37, D major.

He placed the music sheets in front of himself and started playing, this one feeling much simpler to play than the etude, despite the similar tempo they were in. The sonata was also far more exciting to play, bringing that strange kind of tingling electricty which flowed through him whenever he let himself go and played without fear.  
Matthew enjoyed listening to his brother play, although sometimes he felt a bit jealous he wasn't able to do it as good as him. Or do it at all, at that note. Well, it was because he wasn't as interested in music to take classes, but it would still be fun to sometimes do it. His life mostly focused on just being good at school so he could become a doctor, mathematician or anything similar, and that was one of the reasons he earned much more respect from their father.  
After the death of their mother, the father began experiencing this boiled up hate for music, and absolutely despised that Alfred still wanted to continue doing it as a full time job when he grows up.

"There, I did that one much better. One more and I'm done, since I still haven't done my homework and dad's gonna kill me if I get another F." He announced immediately after finishing the sonata, taking the third piece which was messily marked Schubert, Impromptu op. 92 no. 2 into his hands.  
The third piece he had to learn was longer and quite difficult, but he was happy to do it. His piano was one octave too small to reach the highest notes, and that was the biggest problem while practising it. But, he made up for it when he played on his teacher's piano.

His piano teacher was wonderful. She was a young academic pianist only twenty-three years old, compassionate and emotional, and always encouraged her students to move forward. She said Alfred was her best student, and knowing his family wasn't the greatest financially, the girl even offered to pay for Alfred to continue his music education on the Royal Academy of Music and audition for it as soon as he finishes school.  
Even though his father would never approve of that, he wanted to find a way and do it. He had full support from his friends and Matthew as well, and they were all in to help their best friend achieve his dream.

"Phew, I'm done." Alfred sighed a bit and carefully placed all the music sheets he used today under his bed, where he kept them safe and sound, away from his father's anger. That trick, he had learnt after his father got a bit out of control and ripped apart his book of scales when he was fourteen.

"...Oh, come on, I was so close to falling asleep, you could have played one more." Matthew whined a little, lazily rolling on his bed as he looked at his brother with sleepy eyes.

"Fine, what about the Moonlight Sonata?" He exhaled wearily.

"As if I know them by names. Is that the really creepy but calming one in a minor key?"

"Yes, I think that's the one." Alfred rolled his eyes, and started playing.

The Moonlight Sonata was his teacher's favourite, and one of his most precious ones to play as well. At some nights, when he felt awfully down and straight up miserable, that piece would be his escape plan. He would put on headphones and listen to it, not able to play at such early hours after midnight. The music would soften his pain, and helped him breathe, it would make his desperation dissappear at least for some time and make him fall asleep easier.

Truth be told, Alfred didn't know where he would be without music.

To him, music was his everything - the best way he was able to express himself, his light and warmth in the darkest, coldest moments of his life, and every time he listened to it or played it, he felt as if he was able to connect with his mother one more time, at least for one more second.  
Music was that bright and sunny spring day and the children happily playing outside in grass. Music was a starry night sky, each chord being a shiny star which he looked up to and felt as if he was at peace. Music changed colours of leaves on trees in autumn, from green to yellow, red, orange and so many more different colours that no person could describe with words. Music was hearing footsteps in the snow and the teasing, cold winter air in December.

To simply put it, music was his entire life.

Each note he heard would ring inside of his mind and reach his heart, embracing it in a different kind of warmth, sometimes making him laugh, and sometimes making him cry. That's what made him so passionate about it.

So he began to cry once more in silence, warm tears finding their way down his cheeks, but he did not stop the magnificent sound of the Moonlight Sonata.

Sometimes life wasn't fair. To be honest, it wasn't fair many times, and Alfred knew that very well. And despite him feeling lost, hopeless and even worthless in this world, there was always something worth fighting for.  
For him, it was to see Arthur one more time, and to play piano in the evening hours so his brother could peacefully fall asleep.

Even if life wasn't fair, even if it was ruthless and brought him down like a weight fell on him from the highest point and made him crash to his lowest, there were still magical moments he didn't want to lose.

As he cried, the thoughts filled his mind, and the soft melody of the classical piece activated many beautiful memories he experienced with the ones who he loved the most.

And with the last chord, he closed his eyes.

There was still hope.


	10. Unexpected

The next morning, Alfred was actually excited about school for a change, but that wasn't because of the classes, no, it was because after school, he would be able to play a song together with no one else but Arthur Kirkland.

He woke up only a few minutes after Matthew, and this time didn't even need to be forced out of bed by the younger. Getting ready in about ten minutes and picking up all his unfinished homework from the desk along with the black backpack, Alfred and Matthew ran out of the house without saying goodbye to their father who was in the living room and slammed the door behind themselves.

"You're a little eager to go this morning, aren't you?" The shorter American teased Alfred a tiny bit, walking in quick and big steps so the two of them wouldn't miss the bus to school.

"Yeah, that's right", Alfred responded with a chuckle and suddenly shivered a little from the cold air, realizing that he forgot his jacket at home.  
Well, he wasn't going back now, and on the other hand, a long sleeve shirt was good enough to keep him warm inside of school.

Once they reached the bus station, they spotted some of their friends - Gilbert was there, talking to Elizabeta, and Arthur was next to them chatting with Mathias - the Danish boy who only sometimes hung out with them - but not engaging in the conversation all too much since it was morning, and he was definitely not a morning person.  
Alfred and Matthew approached them soon enough, the older American waving happily.

"Good morning!" He smiled, and everyone returned the greeting to the two brothers. But as soon as they were going to engage in another conversation, the big school bus arrived at the station and a whole bunch of students were getting on, including the six of them who were, of course, going in last.

The bus was awfully crowded that morning, and it seemed as if the entire school was inside of it, while in reality, there were about seventy people inside. Of course, that wasn't the only school bus, but it was the one that Alfred always took, without a specific reason. The six friends made themselves comfortable in the back of the bus chatting along with some other school mates of theirs.  
Alfred threw a few almost unnoticeable glances towards Arthur, and in a split second they even caught eye contact without saying a single words to each other, making both boys a bit nervous and flustered. But around a big group of kids, they didn't dare show it.

In about ten minutes, they reached school. Everyone got off the bus, students were talking, lost in playful banter among each other as they got into the big building that nobody truly enjoyed going to.

The bell soon rang for first period, which meant Alfred, Arthur and Elizabeta made their way towards the Geography classroom, while Gilbert ran off to History and Matthew to Art.

Alfred was a bit worried for the exam results in Geography, but he hoped for the best. The exam didn't go that badly anyway, it was only the immense pressure that made it seem much worse.

"Good morning, class", the teacher's loud voice could be heard as every student took their place in the clasroom, the American sitting next to Elizabeta who immediately started whispering to him about how nervous she was for doing badly in this exam. "Your test results are in, I'll just read them now so we don't waste time before the lesson I must teach today."

Alfred and the brown haired girl held hands from the tension, staring at the teacher and waiting for their names to be called out.

"Elizabeta Héderváry, seventy percent. Not bad."

The girl smiled a little, satisfied that the test had a positive outcome, even though she could have done better.

Oh, come on, come on... I don't think I did badly! Okay. I should be next, since this is going alphabetically.

"Alfred Jones, ninety-five percent. Good job, you got the most percentage in class."

The American was left in awe and confusion, not expecting it to be that high. How in the world was he able to get the best result in the goddamn class? If nothing, he expected Arthur and a few other students to definitely ace the exam and do it way better than him.  
Maybe he was underestimating himself?

"Arthur Kirkland, thirty percent. I don't know what happened, but you better fix that grade soon, Arthur."

Oh hell, I knew I messed it up, but I didn't know it would be that bad. Arthur sighed, nodding and frowning a little when he heard the teacher's words. It was just a small mistake, everybody does them sometimes. But Arthur didn't understand why it had happened to him. He knew his mind wasn't quite in place lately - because of a little love problem he was dealing with - but he truly did not expect it to affect his grades.

Well, nobody's perfect.

"Anyway, I'm quite dissatisfied with the outcome of this exam. Some of you really surprised me, though. For example, Alfred. You did well, good work. But then there's Arthur, who kind of dissappointed me." After reading out all the names and percentages that the class earned on the exam, the teacher commented on some of them and expressed his thoughts about it, making some of the students kind of disappointed in themselves, and some of them happy.

Alfred was quite happy. An A in Geography, at least something he could bring home as good news. Still, a part of him wondered why the English boy got so low, and a part of him even blamed himself for it. Arthur did tell him he was worried about him lately...

It probably isn't that, what am I thinking?

The lesson continued, Alfred following in class more than he usually did. The professor was explaining something about the terrain of Scotland, and a few terms like horizontal topographic contour which he was sure they had already learnt about a couple of years ago.

But for the first time in who knows how long, he felt satisfied with his success.

\- - -

Math class was the last bit of torture before Alfred and Arthur could meet in the music school, and it was quite uninteresting for both of them.  
The American wrote down the tasks one by one, but didn't solve any of them because of his still present confusion about how to do them in the first place. Once in a while, he glanced over to Arthur's notebook to copy, until Arthur realized it and moved the entire notebook to the right for the other boy to have a clearer vision of it.

"Thanks", Alfred whispered, quickly writing out the results befure the teacher caught him in the act.

"Jones, stop staring at Kirkland's notebook and get some work done", the strict redhead math teacher approached their desk in the back, arms crossed and an irritated frown plastered on her face, "and remember what I told you yesterday abut summer school."

"Yes, sorry..." Alfred sighed and returned the notebook to Arthur, rolling his eyes after the teacher finally left the two of them to write in peace. "Wow, she's a total drag." He whispered over to the boy who immediately nodded in confirmation, chuckling silently.

But, as any other bad thing, math class soon ended, which resulted in the two of them packing their stuff as quickly as possible and running out of the classroom together with Elizabeta.  
They quickly explained to her that they were going to the music school to play a song together, and she widely smiled at the two of them followed by a smirk.

"Have fun, you two!" She laughed and waved at them, leaving in the opposite direction.

Arthur and Alfred stood in the hallway with confusion for a longer moment, before snapping out of it and heading towards the entrance to the Music Department, or how they called it, music school.  
The two schools were connected as a building, but were actually separated and carried different names.

"I didn't bring my guitar, but I can always borrow one from the teacher, like I did a couple of times already." Arthur stated, and opened the door of the Department for Alfred to get in first.

"That's fine. I didn't bring my piano either", he joked, and soon laughter fell upon the two boys.

In no more than two minutes, they found a practice room with an upright piano, and on the wooden shelves next to the musical instrument stood a guitar and an accordion. Perfect. They didn't even have to ask the teachers for using the instruments.

Alfred sat himself on the music stool, fixing it so it fits well for his height, trying out the piano for a few moments and preparing himself a bit even though he didnt't even need to. It was practically a routine for him at this point.

Arthur sat on a normal chair which was in the corner of the practice room and tuned in the guitar, plucking each string until he got every one of them perfectly in tune.

"So, which song would you like to play?" The British boy asked, and Alfred needed a few seconds to think of a good one.

"What about Shape of You?" He asked, knowing how much Arthur loved listening to Ed Sheeran. He liked Sheeran's songs as well, but by now the whole damn British isles knew how much Arthur Kirkland loved them.

"You know me too well."

The boys settled on playing it in the original, C sharp minor key, and Arthur began playing the backing track on guitar while Alfred played the melody.  
Completely out of practice, first time playing this song together, they melted in the melody and even began singing the lyrics at one point.

Arthur had a gorgeous, clear tone of voice and soon took the lead in singing while still holding the backing tune on the guitar, Alfred adding more and more chords and an arpeggio on every fourth one. All in all, it sounded fantastic, and they were quite satisfied with it.  
The most important part, they connected through the music and enjoyed every second of it and smiled to each other multiple times while playing.

"Want to do another one?" Arthur asked when he finished with the last chord.

"Of course! But this time you choose."

"Uh, what about... Hopeless Wanderer. You must know that one, I literally sent it to every group chat we have." The English boy laughed, and Alfred nodded to the words.

"Yeah, I've grown to love it as well." He commented with a small smile.

Agreeing to play the song in G minor, Alfred began first with the piano just like the song really begins, and soon Arthur joined him with the chords.

The song was rough, full of energy, enthusiasm, happiness and a bunch of other emotions neither of them were able to describe. Alfred smoothly and freely pressed onto the keys, closing his eyes in the middle of the melody and continuing to play. Arthur played more ruthlessly, grinning as they got to the most powerful part, the chorus.

"Done!" Alfred stood up from the excitement, a special feeling of positivity running through his veins, almost out of breath from how the melody took over him.

"That was wonderful." Arthur commented, taking the guitar off of his shoulder and placing it on the chair as he got up and slowly approached the American boy.  
They looked at each other smiling for a really long moment, both teenagers equally blushing. They were so close to each other, and the room felt so small...

Arthur wasted no more time.

Taking Alfred by the hand, he brought the other boy closer to him, and their faces were no more than a few centimetres away. The American thought his heart was going to burst from how fast it was beating, and his breathing became strangely uneven.

"A-arthur, I--" Alfred began stuttering over his words, not knowing what to do or what to say. But, his failed attempt at speaking was interrupted by a pair of soft lips pressed against his own, and he instinctively placed both hands on Arthur's shoulders, shivering slightly from such a sudden, close touch. He let out an almost silent, muffled sound as the Brit held him around his waist.  
He couldn't believe this.

Arthur Kirkland, the boy he was in love with for years now, was kissing him.

It was an electric, tingly feeling that didn't leave his body, and the softness of it made everything so much better. Alfred was losing his mind, and he could swear that one tear managed to escape his blue eyes.

After some time, the boys both pulled away from the kiss, looks pierced to each other.

"I... I'm..." The American felt as if he was going to burst, feeling as if he forgot the entire English language.

"Shush, don't speak." Arthur gently smiled, loving the closeness he managed to achieve with the boy of his dreams.

"I-I like you a lot, Arthur." The other admitted, completely red in the face and still out of breath, but finally able to form a somewhat good sentence. Still, the Brit just let out an almost incoherent, airy laugh, stealing another kiss from the other, this time short.

"I love you, too."


	11. Love

"I love you too."

Alfred didn't remember the last time he had felt so incredibly amazing, like the missing puzzle piece inside of his heart was finally put in place, and he was barely able to properly breathe from what just happened.

"W-well... This was unexpected." The younger, much more confused and flustered boy said, an embarrassing chuckle escaping his throat. "I'm glad it happened, though."

"Me too." Arthur replied with a soft and honest smile, again managing to get the hold of Alfred's hand. The warmth they were engulfed in was bursting through the room, and nothing could have been better at the moment. "Shall we head home together now?" He asked, receiving a nod in response.  
The two boys picked up their backpacks and clumsily threw them over their shoulders, Arthur putting the guitar back on the shelf next to the piano where it stood before the two of them took over the practice room.

"Let's go." Alfred opened the door, letting Arthur go out first before he made his way out as well and closed the door behind the two of them. He knew they were in here for more than half an hour, and it will take them another half an hour to get home. But even though he'd most probably get in trouble, even though he felt a tingle of fear about getting home, nothing could get him down from his high after knowing that Arthur Kirkland liked him back, and kissed him first after they played a song together.

The American and the Brit kept holding hands in a soft manner, chatting a bit with a hint of awkwardness in both of their voices. But on the other hand, who wouldn't be awkward after kissing their long time crush?  
This time, they walked home as more than best friends. They experienced a different kind of connection between each other, and in the following minutes the two of them felt inseparable.

Walking towards their homes together, Alfred and Arthur talked, laughed and enjoyed the day which was quite warm for November, lucky for Alfred who didn't feel as cold without his jacket as he did in the morning. But even if it were cold, he'd be warmed up by love and by Arthur simply being there and smiling at him.

"We definitely have to play a song together again sometimes," Arthur made a statement, and received a hum of agreement from the other boy. "Are you free tomorrow? It's Saturday, we can basically do whatever we want."

"I'm not sure, but I'll ask my dad. Maybe he'll let me since I did well on the Geography exam today. Hopefully." Alfred shrugged his shoulders, answering the question which was a tiny bit awkward for him, since deep inside he knew the real answer. Especially since he was about to arrive home late once again.

Now, he didn't want Arthur to know what was going on at his house even more, since a big part of him thought that Arthur wouldn't want to do anything with him anymore if he found out. Simply because Alfred thought the other would think of him as weak, lazy or a coward.

"That's fine. It's okay if you can't, we can find another day. There's time." Arthur shyly smiled, realizing that the two of them already reached Alfred's house. Sadly, that meant it was time to part.

"Thank you." Alfred stood in place on the sidewalk, throwing a fast glance at Arthur one more time, but not expecting to be pulled into a quick kiss. Finding himself and immediately kissing back, the two of them stood like that for a few seconds, before saying goodbye and parting at last.

Alfred ran away towards his home, mind full of so many different thoughts and heart full of so many different feelings, on the verge of tears but also laughing at the same time, an emotional mess at its best. Approaching the door, he got in after unlocking with the spare key he always kept in his pocket, never losing it.

Only when he stepped into the house, he realized how much he dreaded getting in, the feeling immediately making him feel like there was a lump in his throat. But the feeling of Arthur's lips against his was unerasable, and made him experience a different kind of safety. It was strange, unexplainable, so wonderful...

"I'm home", he announced, stepping into the living room where his father was residing. But instead of finding him watching television as usual, he was typing something on their almost eight year old laptop. That didn't happen too often. But, Alfred didn't care. As long as the man had a distraction, he would be fine.  
Matthew was probably in his room for quite some time, since he got home from school much earlier. Less classes, and he didn't spend time after school with his friends.

"Had fun after school?" His father sarcastically asked, the tone of voice making Alfred slightly shudder.

I had the time of my life, thank you very much.

He didn't respond, but just dropped his backpack next to the dining table and headed towards the kitchen, thinking of getting something to eat since he hadn't actually eaten anything except a bit of bread at lunchbreak, and the day before he barely had anything besides a bowl of soup and a sandwich while their father was outside in the evening.

"Who were you with?" The man asked another question, but Alfred tried his best to stay calm.

"Arthur," he truthfully answered, finding a pre-made sandwich on the kitchen counter. He could have sworn Matthew left it there for him.

"What did you do?" After the third question asked, Alfred couldn't help but roll his eyes. What was this, a goddamn police investigation? He was sixteen years old, he had all the rights to stay with his friends after school a little bit, especially since he didn't do anything inappropriate or bad like some teenagers in the school did.

"Uh, we played a song together." Fuck. Wrong answer, wrong answer. I shouldn't have brought anything musical into this.

"Really now?" Alfred could hear his father stop the typing, and he bit his lip, silently cursing under his breath at himself for mentioning music. "So you were doing music with a friend instead of getting home on time and doing your work like you should have done?"

"Yeah."

I'm actually surprised that he didn't burst out on me already.

"What do I have to do to get you in order?!"

And, there it is.

Alfred dropped his food on the kitchen counter, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes on a short moment. "I'm sorry, I just thought it would be fun--"

"Fun? You don't need anything fun, because that needs to be deserved! You don't do anything, how many fucking times do I need to tell you that before you realize it? If you plan on acting like this the whole year, then I don't want to see you in this house anymore!" His father stood up, leaving the laptop on the dining table. "So you choose. Maybe you should try living on the streets to see how it will feel after you finish your music school!" With venom in his voice, and flashing rage in his eyes, he advanced towards Alfred, who took a couple of steps back and frowned at the last words that were thrown at him.

"Well, maybe I will! At least nobody will shout at me for being a failure on the streets, will they?" Alfred yelled back, losing his dear patience at last.

"You are a failure! You're worthless, just look at yourself! You don't do shit around the house, all you do is lay in your bed and pretend you're some kind of depressed piece of shit who can't do anything! You just don't want to do anything! Just dare ask me if you can go out with your friends tomorrow or what not. I promise, the answer will fucking hurt!" The father kept throwing the insults at Alfred, the boy trying to ignore them but every word remained as a scar over his hear, making him believe that it's true.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being born, for breathing and taking away years of your precious time-"

"Enough is enough!"

Alfred felt a sharp, quick sting of pain run through his body, and suddenly his back was against the wall. He hissed from the discomfort, eyes pierced to his father's furious ones. Truth be told, he didn't even blame his father for this one. He went too far with his words, it was only to be expected... Now he was being held by his shoulders against the white kitchen wall, and it certainly didn't feel good.

"And learn how to behave! I don't want to hear another word from you!"

"I'm sorry--"

"Not a single word!"

This time, the pain struck the boy right in the face, and if he weren't backed against a firm surface, he would most definitely fall. His father took him by the left arm and pushed him away, with a movement which clearly said 'go away, I don't want to see you'.

Alfred shortly regained breath, and let out a shivery exhale as he reached his room at last, hearing a loud thud behind himself, realizing his father threw the backpack towards him in an angry manner. He picked up the item from the floor and opened the room door, finding his younger brother at the desk, not moving his look from the notebooks and paper he was writing and scribbling on.

"Hey, Matt", he greeted the younger and dropped tiredly on his bed. Surprisingly even to him, he didn't cry. His breathing was still a bit uneven, body still tense and face still in stingy pain, but he didn't shed a single tear. All he tried to focus on was the thought of Arthur being so close to him, and the coldness of his father's words was soon replaced by the warmth of a simple 'I love you'.

"I heard everything." Those three words were the only thing Matthew said, throwing a glance towards his tired older brother.

"It really doesn't matter. Nothing can take today away from me, not even him." Alfred chuckled slightly, turning on the bed so he could face Matthew, who now dropped all his work just to talk to his brother. They both sat themselves comfortably on Alfred's bed, and the younger American was glad to listen to the other's stories.

"I hope you don't believe anything he's saying to you, though."

I can't help but believe most of it. I blame myself for everything, anyway.

"Let's just switch the topic. I want to tell you what happened with Arthur after school today." Alfred waved his hand in a way to dismiss Matthew's words and begin a new conversational topic.

"Oh, what happened?" Matthew smirked, excitedly looking at him.

"Well, uh, we played two songs together, and that was really nice. But then we both got up, all happy and ready to leave, and he..."

"He...?" The younger boy was impatient for the answer.

"He kissed me."


	12. Cherish

"Arthur kissed you?" Matthew was excited, asking the question with a happily surprised expression on his face. "So it must have been really good!"

Alfred chuckled lightly at his little brother's delighted tone of voice. "Yeah, it sure was." He stated shyly, the conversation taking his mind off his father's previous words. He was in this constant state of try to forget, and focus on the good but it didn't always work.  
When he was with Arthur or his brother, though, everything seemed so much simpler, so much brighter... And he enjoyed every moment of it.

"I told you he likes you back." The younger teased, feeling truly happy for the nice moments his older brother got to experience with his long time crush. He was glad that Alfred could be calm and at least a bit cheerful today, since not everything was going right for him.

"I was really awkward, though... I'm glad I didn't mess anything up." Alfred admitted, laying back on the bed and making himself comfortable on the pillow while Matthew sat on the other side of the same bed.

Matthew answered to the words with a wholehearted smile. "You shouldn't be worried about that. Be happy you two started it off."

"I don't remember the last time I've felt this relaxed. Even with dad lecturing me as soon as I got home... I simply didn't care. I had a beautiful moment with Arthur and that's all that matters."

"All that matters to me is that you're happy, Alfred."

\- - -

A bit later in the afternoon, around 4 PM, the two American boys were both focused on their work. Even though he didn't understand the math work, Alfred tried to at least have it written down if nothing else. He wanted to quickly scribble that down and sneak out to piano class while their father was still taking his afternoon nap. It would take him half and hour just to get there by foot, but to him it was all worth it for music.  
And as long as his dad doesn't check whether he was still doing his work in the room or not, he'd be fine.

"Right, I'm done with most of my homework. I'm off to piano", Alfred announced to Matthew, quickly snatching his music sheets from under the bed and shaking off the bits of dust from them. Since he was still in the clothing that he wore to school, too lazy to change, he only quickly put on his shoes and was all ready to go.

"Okay, stay safe." Matthew responded, not taking his eyes off the English workbook which was spread out on the desk in front of him.

They said quick goodbyes to each other before Alfred silently opened the entrance door of the house, not making even the smallest sound. Closing the door in the same, slow manner behind him, he ran off carrying a bunch of papers in his hand madly, without a file. Luckily, it wasn't windy nor rainy, and the perfect weather to take a walk. In this case, a walk to the music school.  
The dusty, old streets of London didn't seem as grey and dull, and the environment felt lively, illuminated by the sharp, November sun. He rushed over the open road, the traffic almost completely clear, only a few silver and crimson coloured cars passing by, stopping on the pedestrian crossing. A few teenagers from the school were hanging out next to the little supermarket at the corner, but he didn't know them personally, only from sight. He ran past them without a greeting and kept hurrying, already close to being out of breath. But it was good. Running helped him chase away the bad, escaping from the darkness he was trying not to get pulled in from day to day.

In a bit less than twenty minutes, he was there. Much earlier than he arrived usually, that was for sure.

He waited for the school door to open for a second or two, stepping in and explaining the doorkeeper that he had piano class to go to. After the man let him go pass, Alfred thanked him and ran through the big hall, up the staircase and through the corridor to the Music Department, the place where he made some beautiful memories earlier that day. Finding his classroom, the door on which his teacher's name, Rose Alderson, academic pianist, proudly stood on a golden plate, he knocked on it two times and got in only after hearing a 'come in' from the other side.

"Oh, Alfred, you're early today. Have a seat! I apologize we didn't have class on Wednesday, I had a concert in Bristol." The young teacher smiled, her long and curly golden blonde hair gracefully falling over her shoulders as she wrote something down in a small notebook.

"That's alright, how did the concert go?" Alfred smiled back to the lady, sitting down on the music stool and adjusting it, as a routine he did every time he would play. He placed the music sheets in front of him, on the piano, and pressed a few random chords just to warm up.

"It was amazing! There were many young musicians there, and I thought how good it would be to send you there, maybe next year already. You'd be perfect for that!" She stood up from her desk and brought the chair over to the piano so she could sit herself next to Alfred to have a clearer look of the keys. "What do you think?"

Alfred blinked in surprise, at a momentary loss for words. "I-I think that'd be great."

"I thought you'd like the idea." She chuckled, taking the boy's music sheets into her hands and choosing the Haydn sonata for a nice start of class. "Alright, have you practised this one lately?"

He nodded as a response, and the teacher placed the sheets for the piece back on the piano so Alfred would be able to see them well. Taking that as a signal to start playing, Alfred gently started off the tune, in quicker tempo than he usually practised in when doing it at home. Fully concentrated on the notes, he went through the entire first movement of the sonata in about four minutes, not making a single mistake. With the last chord pressed lightly, he finished and looked at the teacher to hear the comments about the playing, like he did every time.

"Well done, that was perfect! It usually takes students about half a year to learn this sonata, but you did it in less than two months. I'm really proud of you, Alfred. You have excellent hand movements, and the accents were very good." She stated her opinion on the piece, nodding with a smile as an additional confirmation. "Let's see... Play the etude next."

Now, the Czerny etudes were where it usually always got a bit sticky for the American, but he always managed to play at least fairly well, if not perfect. He chose a slightly slower tempo for this one, paying close attention to the left hand chords. Messing up one beat on the second page, he silently cursed himself for that mistake and made a few steps back to fix that part and continue playing. The rest of the piece went smoothly, and even the last bit where he usually screwed up was done perfectly.

"That was much better than last time. You still need to work on this part", she said and used a red pencil to circle the chords that were a bit more difficult to play, "but the rest was great! Let's try these few chords again."

And so he played them about fifteen times again and again until he finally reached perfection. "Better?" He asked, playing the whole row including the circled chords.

"Much better." She answered.

The rest of the class, they focused on Schubert's Impromptu which Alfred said he didn't practise all too much. But that was fine for the young teacher, who just responded that not everything can always be done. Alfred started playing it slowly at first, repeating the first part two times. The second page was the most difficult, and the professor herself called it the tragic death of pianists when they first started learning the piece. But with the boy's talent and persistence, nothing was impossible, and so that second page was checked off the list of difficult things in no less than fifteen minutes.

When the class came to an end, Alfred felt a bit gloomy for he wouldn't be able to play much until Wednesday next week when they had piano class again. He wanted to have it more than two times a week, but with awfully filled schedules for not only the students, but the teachers too, that wasn't something they were able to do.

"Right so, you were great today. Keep practising Czerny the most, even if it takes two hundred tries to get those chords right again, do it because it will be worth it in the end. And for the Impromptu, I doubt you'll have problems with that either. I'll see you next Wednesday!"

"I understand." Alfred picked up his music sheets, waving to the teacher with a smile. "See you!" He greeted back and exited the classroom in a matter of seconds.

Somehow, he always felt cheerful after music class, as if he received an incredible amount of energy for life just from playing those pieces.

And as he got out of the school and looked at the bright sky, he knew that today, nothing could take away that happiness he held inside.

Even if it lasted for just a day, he would cherish it forever.


	13. Draining Hope

Not more than half an hour later, after a calming walk through the sunny streets, Alfred was back at home. Feeling slightly jittery to open the door, he tried to do it as silently as possible - it was, luckily for him, unlocked so he was able to get in without a problem.  
His father was still asleep, and loud snores could be heard from the man's bedroom, and when the boy checked the room, Matthew wasn't there either. Instead, he found a little message on the younger's desk.

I went to the supermarket, didn't tell dad. I'll be back until 7 PM. Hope you're back safe.  
-Matthew

Slightly smiling at the small message placed on the work desk, he took the paper and folded it nicely to put in his own desk drawer. He liked doing that with messages from Matthew, for no particular reasons but to save them safely and keep them all in one place.

He placed his music sheets under the bed where they were always safely kept, away from trouble, and exhaustedly flopped down onto his bed after taking his shoes off. Despite feeling better than he usually did, Alfred needed a break, especially since not everything felt absolutely right that day. His mind tried focusing on nothing else but Arthur, but a part of him still reminded him of the scraps of darkness painted on the four walls of his home each time he would arrive home and face his father's anger. Through the years of living without his mother, his thoughts got used to thinking about nothing else besides how utterly miserable he felt as he grew older, and a happy moment like his first kiss with Arthur was one of the rare bright times in the past four years.

To have a little rest first, he decided to leave his homework for a bit later in the evening and picked up his phone, typing in the password and first checking his messages. His friends spammed the group chat once again, but he didn't pay much attention to that anymore. It was usually Elizabeta and Gilbert quarreling about something unimportant or Matthew sending pictures of memes in Danish that nobody really understood. Arthur would sometimes come up with a joke and throw it in there for laughter's sake, but Alfred and Matthew rarely spoke in the group. Only when something was really funny, someone needed them or if Arthur sent homework answers for everyone in the group, even Gilbert and Matthew who were not even in the same class.  
Scrolling aimlessly through the internet and social media, he realized nothing was really interested, so all he was able to do was take his headphones, turn up the music, sit back and relax. It was always the best form of procrastination for him.

And to remind him of Arthur, he chose Shape of You from his almost infinite playlist, the song that the British boy loved so much.

Alfred had far too many songs on his phone, ranging from classical music to punk rock, and the list went on and on, new artists making their way on the screen with each day. He didn't really have a favourite, and it was difficult to choose one song that he loved the most, since all of them reminded him of something else and had a special place in his heart.

But not even fifteen minutes later, the door of his shared room was opened a bit harshly, his father stepping in with a tired face. "Oi, where's Matthew?" The man asked, voice low and croaky from the sleep he just woke up from.

Alfred turned off the music, spinning a little in his bed to face the man standing at the door. "Uh, he went to the supermarket. He'll be back soon, though." Feeling lucky that he wasn't complaining about how he hadn't started working yet, the boy casually spoke in a normal tone of voice, not feeling afraid as he usually did while talking to his father. And even though he already had a mishap today, there was nothing to worry about at the moment.

"Alright then." The tired man replied, closing the door behind him. Alfred wondered whether his father ever cared about him, how he felt, did he eat enough, is he tired, happy... No. The answer was most definitely no. The boy strongly believed that his dad doesn't give the slightest shit about him. All he wanted was for him to finish school, get a good job and provide money for the family.

But he didn't really care about his son the way a good parent does, and that was the thing which broke Alfred the most. Because if he really thought about him, he wouldn't insult him every day, tell him he's worthless and bring him to the point of actually wishing to take his own life or just hurt himself really, really badly.

Alfred's mother was loving, and the best parent in the world. She always sensed when something was wrong with her two sons, when one of them or both felt sad or down, and she'd usually comfort them by singing soft songs as they relaxed in her embrace, or playing a peaceful song on piano while the two boys lay down on the bed. And then everything would feel fine.

But since she was gone, the boys never felt that kind of comfort again. Sure, their dad almost never yelled at Matthew, and definitely never hit him, but that didn't mean the younger was completely okay. He missed that blissful comfort. Both of them truly missed it, and knew that there would always be an empty hole in their heart, a void which was never going to be filled again. Still, over the four years she was gone, Alfred felt much more miserable. At first, his father treated them almost the same, but certainly gave the younger more attention - which Alfred found understandable. Later, as the boy grew older, the man started yelling at him often, telling him how all he was doing was wrong. There was this developed hatred for music inside of the man's heart since the death of his wife, and he took it out on, of course, the only musician left in their home. He ripped out Alfred's book of scales, burned one of his compositions, threw away a couple of music sheets and tried to break the piano a few times in his anger outbursts. Worst of all, that was only a short list of all the awful things he'd done.

There was very little hope left inside of the older Jones brother, and he was oh, so close to hurting himself.

And he would have done it only a few days ago... If Arthur didn't make him smile. But one smile he got from that beautiful British boy was enough to fix Alfred's day.

Now, the room was silent. Alfred was laying down and staring at the ceiling, phone in hands but headphones hanging on the side of the bed, and he once again felt overwhelmed by all the thoughts washing over him and pulling him back into that darkness he was constantly fighting against with difficulty. He dropped the small device on the floor, burying his head into the pillow underneath him, trying his complete best not to cry.

Think about Arthur, think about piano class... Don't get upset, you're okay.

Oh, but he wasn't.

\- - -

Alfred, not even noticing, fell asleep from how exhausted he felt, welcomed by the wetness of his own tears as he woke up half an hour later. It was already evening, and Matthew was back home. He didn't wake his older brother up, though, knowing that he needed all the sleep he could get, especially because lately he was severely lacking it.

"Matt, when'd 'ya get home?" He asked in slurred speech and rough voice from the sleepiness, tossing and turning on the bed out of the sudden discomfort of being awake.

"About ten minutes ago. Found you sleeping, didn't want to wake you up." Matthew replied calmly, and only the sound of his pencil on paper could be heard after the words. "How was piano class?"

Alfred cleared his throat a little and rubbed the drowsiness out of his eyes before fixing up his glasses just slightly - since they were in quite an uncomfortable position - and sitting up on the bed. "It was good. The teacher said she wants to send me to some kind of concert in Bristol next year, but that's not happening", he responded and shrugged his shoulders.

"Hey, there's always a way. You'll be seventeen then, that's basically grown up already."

"But I don't think I'm good enough for such a thing." The young musician replied, single handedly grabbing his backpack from the side of the bed.

Matthew made a mocking sound of disapproval, rolling his eyes without the other seeing it. "That's the thing you should be worried about the least, Alfred."

After a longer moment of silence, Alfred was the first one to speak up. Even though he knew it was going to be a sensitive topic, and knew that the younger boy had work to do and not much time to discuss things, he needed to get it off his chest. It's been there for too long, and now seemed like a good moment.

"Matthew, can I ask you a question?"

The said boy turned around in the spinning chair he was sitting in, a few long blonde locks of hair falling over his left eye before he removed them so they weren't in the way. "Yeah, what's up?"

"See I've been thinking for a while, and... I need to get something off my mind. Do you... Do you think dad cares about me? At all?" He shyly asked, words coming out a bit trembly near the end of the sentence.

Matthew blinked in surprise. Alfred usually wasn't the first to start these kinds of topics. He would always keep things to himself, and rarely asked anything like this. But, he could see why, since the situation worsened only in the last couple of days. "Well..." He began, not knowing how to properly word his thoughts. "I don't know. I really don't, and... It seems to me like he cares, but in a different way. He worries about you, but doesn't know how else to express things but with violence and his damn big mouth that know too many insults."

"I think he just hates me, you know? Like, he wouldn't care if I live or die."

"No, please, don't say that! He doesn't hate you! It's just... It's weird. Very. And I hate it. But, I just hold on to the hope that one day he'll stop."

"I doubt that, Matt. To be honest, I can't even imagine life with him being at peace like he used to be." Alfred shook his head with a sigh. "But even I don't care anymore."

That was a big lie. He did care, too much at that note.

He cared to the point of fear, exasperation and pure sorrow. And Matthew knew that.

But Matthew wasn't like Alfred. He believed that his older brother was going to be okay one day, and for that he would only need one person. No, not him.

Arthur.


	14. Rain

The next morning, Alfred woke up to a cloudy Saturday, and as soon as he got up, there was rain. He heard tapping on the window and spotted the dull, grey sky and the sorrow which has fallen upon them all, a complete opposite to the sunny Friday he got to experience yesterday. It was a strange and sudden change, but in London everyone got used to bipolar weather by now.

He quickly snuck into the living room, spotting Matthew already preparing tea and hot chocolate in the kitchen for the two of them. To Alfred, it wasn't understandable how someone could wake up so early and already be in a good mood. Even though he wasn't one of those people who can sleep until noon, he was usually the type of person to wake up at 9 or 10 on weekends, although when he was younger, mornings were his favourite time of day. School ruined it all for him.

"Good morning", he drowsily said and walked into the kitchen to grab a cup of hot chocolate in his favourite mug, a white one with a shiny musical pattern all over it. Ah, but, that wasn't the only special thing about it. The item was given to him by Arthur, as one of the gifts for his fifteenth birthday. That's what made it so beautiful.

"Good, you're finally up." Matthew said with a smile, pouring tea in a small, white cup before placing it on the dining table. "I thought we might need some relaxation today, and dad isn't home until later in the evening."

"Really? Where is he?" Alfred raised an eyebrow at that, an idea already forming in the back of his head. He took a sip of the warm drink from the mug and sat down next to Matthew at the table.

"He just said he's going out and won't be back until eleven tonight. Didn't specify where or why, though. He was not in a really good mood."

When is he in a good mood anyway? Let's be honest.

"Oh." The older boy smirked a little, taking in more of the drink and sharing a knowing look with his brother, as if they were conversing with telepathy. His facial expression was enough to tell what he wanted, and Matthew caught on in less than a second.

"You want to go out with Arthur, don't you?"

"You got it."

Both boys laughed, and Matthew couldn't help but roll his eyes in a playful and friendly manner. "Fine, fine..." He sighed, but a smile remained on his face nonetheless. "I was expecting that in the first place."

Alfred was happy that his father wasn't home, which meant that not only he got to go out with Arthur for the day, but also invite him over at his place. He had never invited anyone to his house since they lived in London, but it was just because he wasn't allowed to.  
Now, a free Saturday meant everything to him. And he was going to make the best of it.

"The rain doesn't even bother me. I just want to spend time with him." He smiled and glanced over to the window again. It was pouring, the ghost-grey mist blurring vision and covering the horizon. But hopefully it would stop until the afternoon, or at least get less aggressive so spending time outside would be possible.

Matthew nodded in understanding, casually sipping a bit of his tea, which he realized was far too hot to drink yet so he let go of the cup, laughing under his breath about his own clumsiness. "You two are going to have an amazing time together, I just know it."

Alfred couldn't agree more.

\- - -

As hours passed, a certain American boy was impatient about a specific time of the day, 3 PM. Because once the clock ticks three, he would be able to meet up with the single most wonderful boy in the world, Arthur Kirkland. He rummaged through his very small closet to find something kind of nice to wear, finding nothing better than a pair of old jeans and a decent grey sweatshirt which at least looked a tad bit fancier than the things he usually wore to school.

"How's my hair?" Alfred asked his brother, fixing up the messy and restless blonde locks that partially covered his forehead, but there was still this one curl that never wanted to stay down as much as he tried. By now, he stopped bothering about it.

"Alfred, it's fine, you're fine, no need to worry that much." The younger giggled, enjoying the sight of his brother filled with nervousness about going on an actual date. He was extremely happy for him, but didn't want him to get overwhelmed by anxiety.

"Good, good." Alfred took a couple of deep breaths, clicking the big button on his phone to check the time. Only a quarter to three, he had exactly enough time to run off towards the nearby park, where he agreed to meet with Arthur.

He put his shoes on in less than a minute, an umbrella just in case it starts roughly pouring again, and ran out of the house with a 'see you' to his brother. Matthew greeted back, laughing as he closed the door. "He hasn't looked so excited about something in years. I'm so happy for him." The young American spoke to himself, sighing with relaxation.

Outside of their house, though, there was a hurrying boy with a yellow umbrella in hand, running in the direction of the park as the raindrops gently covered the sidewalk. Even though dressed fairly nicely, he managed to look like a mess, out of breath and nervousness showing on his red cheeks as he finally arrived at the grassy place where they were supposed to meet.

The air was fresh and crisp, the smell of rain overwhelming, and the only bench where they could sit was now completely wet, making it impossible to sit on. It didn't bother him, though. There was a long row of tall trees which had already lost most of their leaves, the remaining ones painted in gold, red or a beautiful mixture of warm, autumn colours. The only thing that could make the scenery more wonderful was Arthur's presence.

Now, he just had to wait.

"Alfred, I'm so sorry I'm late!" A voice could be heard from the back, startling the American boy who was standing under the umbrella, even though the rain wasn't as strong as it was before. He turned around and spotted just the person he wished to see.

"Hey", he greeted him with a smile, a tiny bit of nervousness settling deep inside him. "It's okay, you don't need to apologize."

"So, where do we go?" The English boy asked softly, smiling back to Alfred. He gently took the other boy's free hand without even asking, intertwining their fingers together as he did.  
Moments like these were what he liked to cherish the most - they were soft, loving and couldn't be replace by anything else.

"Anywhere you want to."

And with those words, the two of them began walking together side by side, the warmth they were sharing was radiating and they could almost feel the sun shine over the rain just because they were with each other. It was special, different, and a new feeling that neither of them had ever experienced up until now.

Nothing could have been better. Alfred was at complete peace, and the beginning nervousness he felt was gone under ten minutes. Arthur was perfect, and his smooth and silvery tone of voice with a gentle English accent were music to the American's ears. They talked about whatever they wanted to talk, exchanged facts and things about each other that they didn't know before.  
Everything was so nice. Magnificent, one could say.

The rain soon stopped, but they didn't completely believe that it was completely over because of the awfully moody weather. Alfred's bright coloured umbrella was put in place, hanging from his right hand and swinging as he slowly walked.

A quarter until four. He could swear that those were the best forty-five minutes of his life, but the day had technically just begun. They agreed to go to Alfred's place a bit later in the evening, and until then get something to eat and sit somewhere, perhaps some place that didn't get soggy from the drizzle.

"Oi, Alfred, I have to show you something very important." Arthur suddenly pulled the other boy by the sleeve a little bit, a small smirk forming in the corner of his lips as he gestured for the two of them to go behind a building. Slightly confused, Alfred still obliged and followed the Brit.

"What is it?" He didn't quite understand, and was about to ask another question, but he didn't even get to say a single word before Arthur's soft lips crashed against his own, pulling him into a passionate kiss and wrapping both his arms around him to bring the two of them as close as they could get - and no one could see them. A dusty old building was protecting them from view, and they were well hidden in a narrow, grey street. Alfred didn't immediately react, but when everything was clear to him, he kissed back gently and felt himself being pressed against the wall of the old house. It didn't bother him, and he gladly let Arthur take the lead as he put his hands on the boy's shoulders. They melted in the kiss together, and not even the strongest force could separate them in the moment.

After quite a long minute, Arthur pulled away from the kiss with a smile, gazing into Alfred's warm, blue eyes that he loved so much. "This."

Alfred knew his heart skipped a beat, and couldn't believe that what he thought was going to be a terrible Saturday trapped inside his house, developed into being the best Saturday of his life - and another day that would forever have a special place in his heart.


	15. Calm

"I..." After that one special moment that the two boys shared in one narrow, grey street on the way towards Alfred's place, the American remained speechless once again. His heart was beating so fast that he was near passing out right on the spot, and he was out of his damn mind. Arthur was perfect. Everything was so perfect, and he didn't know how to properly react. Never in his life did he think that a boy so precious to him would leave him tongue-tied and thunderstruck with a simple kiss. But here he was, and it was the best he'd felt in quite the time. "I don't know how to react." He was honest, kind of embarrassed, cheeks taking on a dusty shade of red.

"Shush", Arthur's green eyes were serious, but in a playful manner. Difficult to describe, that was sure. "Don't talk." He smiled wholeheartedly, loving the sight of the one year younger boy who was backed against the wall with a shy and small smile on his face the entire time.

Who once seemed loud and cheerful, now turned into silent, kind and introverted. And even though he still tried to act open and confident around the whole group of friends, the English boy recognized a good disguise. Arthur was confused by the change in behavior, and still waited for the right moment to ask what exactly happened to bring him to such state. But now was certainly not the moment for it. "Shall we go to your place?" He asked instead, taking the boy's hand gently and carefully once again.

"Gladly." Alfred replied, finding words and getting himself together, taking two or three deep breaths to which Arthur couldn't help but laugh a little.

Walking to the house, they were both really excited. Alfred never had anyone over at his place, and Arthur was eager to finally visit the home where lived the one he loved. The delight was mutual, and they couldn't wait to arrive there.

Although, they still took their time walking, not hurrying whatsoever and enjoying every moment that they got to spend together. Nothing could have been be better than that.

"How come you've never invited us to your place before?" The Brit began a casual conversation, purely because of the awkward silence that had soon fallen upon them from both of their shyness.

"Well, my dad isn't a really social person, and he doesn't allow me and Matt to bring our friends over. But today he said he's going out, so I, uh, used that chance to bring you over."

"I've got the privilege to visit the good old Jones household, you say?" Arthur smirked a little, eyeing the boy from the side.

"I-I suppose so." The American chuckled, looking down and holding the other's hand a little tightly. "Don't get too excited, though, it's really nothing special."

It really wasn't special for Alfred, and he spoke in all honesty. His old home in New York was where he made all the beautiful memories with his family as a whole - from his first piano class, to his mother's last ever song. Some were sorrowful, but he only tried to focus on those bright and happy ones which he would forever keep in his mind.

His house in London, though, only brought him the bad memories. From the beginning he shared it with only his father and Matthew, and he didn't remember anything truly good that happened in it. And if there ever was anything special, it was covered by the filth and dust of the terrible times that settled on the home like a heavy weight.

"Ah, at least you don't share a home with three annoying brothers. Thank god Allistor's at university now, it would be even more crowded with him." Arthur laughed, briefly describing his entire home in one sentence. His mother, father and three brothers shared a home since forever, and Allistor, the oldest brother, was usually the most problematic one. He was half Scottish, that's what Arthur always blamed the personality on.

Well, maybe three annoying brothers are much better than one aggressive father. Alfred thought to himself, but didn't dare say the words out loud.

"I guess you have a point. I'm lucky not to have a crowded place." He replied with those words instead, feeling guilty for lying. Lucky? That was something he certainly wasn't. But, he didn't want to tell Arthur the truth in a thousand years.

Arthur nodded in agreement. "Sure, but... Your dad seems pretty strict. I mean, he doesn't let you out a lot, for example."

How about we switch the topic? Yeah, it's definitely time to switch the topic. Just, how do I do it without being weird, and without giving the impression of hiding something?

"Eh, I guess he is. But it's not a big deal." He shrugged his shoulders, almost wincing at his own words. What a goddamn liar he was! "So, uh, anyway... How are you? I-I mean, how's life?"

Alfred, stop fucking rambling! This is not how you socialize, and certainly not how you change a topic.

I've fucked it up, dammit.

I'll be fine if he doesn't ask questions, though.

"Alfred, you alright? You seem to be... Stuttering a little."

"Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just..." Still in a loss of words, Alfred was a total mess and didn't know how to respond. "I'm still kind of nervous."

"It's alright." Arthur smiled, both boys stopping once they realized that they were finally at the American's house. It wasn't big, but it looked nice and a peaceful place to live in.

...At least from the outside.

The younger boy unlocked the door in a swift movement, still holding his yellow umbrella in hand while doing it. And being the polite, but teasing boy he was, he moved to the side so Arthur could get inside before him. "Ladies first." He smirked, shaking off the nervousness from earlier.

"Shut the hell up." Arthur replied, but a wide grin escaped him and he couldn't stop the light blush spreading on his face. Slowly stepping in the house, he looked around the hallway and took in every detail. It wasn't so narrow, but gave off a neutral-to-dark vibe, and it lead straight to an obviously peaceful looking living room and kitchen, which were connected by a dining table. The television was old, and the couch kind of dusty, but Arthur liked the atmosphere.  
In the hallway to the right stood a white door with text written on a piece of paper badly placed on it. It said Alfred's and Matthew's room. And on the left, there were two doors which didn't have names on them, but Arthur immediately concluded they must be the father's bedroom and the bathroom. "Your place looks nice." The boy commented, and not more than a couple of seconds later, Alfred's younger brother appeared from the room on the right.

"Oh, hey, Arthur", Matthew greeted, making his way swiftly to the kitchen. "I'll leave the room to you two, I suppose you want some privacy." He gave a smug look towards his brother who was already flustered enough, and Alfred silently replied with nothing else but a sigh.

"Thank you, Matthew. We sure will need it", Arthur grinned, pulling Alfred by the hand into the boys' shared room.  
It had two beds on each side, and two desks horizontally alligned. A piano stood underneath the windowsill, on top of an old looking wooden table. All in all, it looked poor, but not uncomfortable at all.

Closing the door behind them, the English boy kept examining the area, interested in every detail. The room wasn't messy, but he had a feeling that the messier desk was certainly Alfred's, and the one perfectly in order Matthew's.

He wasn't wrong.

"So, how do you like it here?" Alfred awkwardly asked, not knowing what to do when having a 'friend' over. Should he bring them something to eat or drink? Offer to take Arthur's coat? He had no clue, and just stood there like a wordless idiot mentally cursing himself for his inability to speak in strange social situations. Without a point, he sat himself on his bed and glanced at Arthur.

"It looks quite cozy. Comfortable, to say the least." The response was short and clear. "May I, uh... Sit next to you?"

"Suit yourself." Alfred smiled, patting the surface of the bed as an invitation for the other, which Arthur immediately took. He accommodated himself next to the young American, both boys taking off their shoes before climbing onto the bed.  
Not many minutes later, they broke the silence with small talk, chatting and laughing as if they hadn't carried a single care in the world. They still had plenty of time before Alfred's father gets back home, and didn't worry about that whatsoever.

Soon enough, they both ended up laying down on the comfortable mattress, and none of them remembered when was the last time they felt that warm, loved and all in all... Calm.  
Arthur wrapped an arm around Alfred, bringing them closer and embracing him completely, to which the boy didn't complain. He just melted in the Brit's scent and warmth, a moment away from crying. But, he luckily didn't cry.  
That... That was it. What he wanted. A soft hug from the one he loved, and feeling appreciated. It was not possible to describe the feeling. Suddenly, it didn't feel like November anymore. He forgot about all his troubles, closing his eyes to enjoy the comfort.  
Arthur loved it as well. Clinging tightly to the gentle American boy, his whole body was at peace and nothing was able to break it.

They wanted it to never end.


	16. Losing Time

One week later

A week had passed since Alfred and Arthur had gotten together, and their entire friend group couldn't have been happier for them. They made a little celebration, and were glad that nobody else in the school found out about their relationship. None of them knew for sure who would be against it and who wouldn't, so it was better to stay silent about it at least for a while.

Alfred's father had only two or three slip-ups with anger breakdowns, but it was nothing too big and the boy was feeling glad about it. The words did hurt him, yes, but at least there was nothing physical involved. He appreciated it. But that must had started happening because the man began suddenly going out a lot, and he wasn't home for big parts of the week.  
Should Alfred be concerned? He didn't think so. If nothing, he was calmer while arriving home. Arthur, luckily, still didn't find out about the secret his boyfriend was hiding from him, and kind of started letting it go.

Even though, in the back of his mind, there was always a voice telling him to go for it, and that Alfred needs him desperately. There was time, though. He would find out one day.

He just hoped that the American would get happier, and stop trying to hide his feelings by saying 'I'm fine', 'I'm okay', and 'Of course I'm happy'.

"So, how's everyone doing?"

Today, they were hanging out at Gilbert's place, and even Alfred and Matthew were able to join them since their father was out again, not telling where he went. But the two boys didn't care the slightest, as long as they were hanging out with their friends.  
Arthur and Elizabeta were there too, and Gilbert's little twelve year old brother Ludwig who they couldn't get rid of for a good amount of time before he finally managed to make them all take off their shoes before climbing onto the beds. A hygiene freak, that's what his big brother called him.

"Wonderful, really!" Elizabeta replied to Alfred's question with a big smile on her face, unnoticeably shifting a little bit closer to Gilbert on the bed. "I'm glad we are all able to hang out like this again. It's been a while since the whole squad was together outside of school."

The words got everyone's nods, they were all equally happy to be there.

"Our dad is out until eleven again, we have all the time on our hands." Alfred spoke up, grinning and looking over to a lightly blushing, but smiling Brit who sat next to him.

The American was never shy around all his friends, and was only quieter when with Arthur - for a reason he didn't even understand himself. Yet. He tried to be open, outgoing and never showed a scrap of worry on his face.

"That's great. So, what should we do?" Gilbert asked, throwing an arm around Elizabeta in a bro-to-bro kind of way, but all of them already knew that the two definitely weren't platonic around each other. The German obviously had feelings for the brown haired girl, and she certainly returned them. Even though they constantly denied it.

"We can have a game night! Like we did last year. You know, two groups, a judge, and a bunch of games. I think they even did it in the Big Bang Theory once." The girl suggested.

"Yeah, I remember that! We should totally do it. But who's gonna be the judge?" Alfred excitedly said, silently pointing towards Matthew once the question was asked. Everyone snickered, glancing towards the younger Jones brother before he finally gave in.

"Fine, I'll do it", he sighed and rolled his eyes, but actually enjoyed getting that role.

Everybody cheered, and Gilbert immediately rushed to his desk and shelves to get everything they were going to need for the games.

"But, under one condition." The boy smirked, getting everyone's attention. "I get to put you in groups."

"Of course! Do as you wish." Elizabeta replied, and the whole group of friends stood up from the bed and gathered around the youngest boy.

"Alright, let's see..." Matthew gave quick glances towards everyone. "Alfred, you're with Elizabeta," he told his brother, and pushed the two together, "and Arthur, you're with Gilbert."

"Oh come on, why the hell do I have to be with this bloody idiot?!" The English boy was a little pissed off. He and Gilbert didn't always get along, and there were a couple of fist fights here and there in their one year friendship. It was usually because Arthur tried his hardest to disagree with everything that the other said, and no one knew why they sometimes looked as if they were arch enemies.

"Because I said so."

Alfred and Elizabeta were very satisfied about getting paired together, because they were probably the closest in the group as friends in the first place. The Jones brothers had a connection of their own, Alfred and Arthur a one week long romantic history, but the Hungarian and the American were certainly the true definition of best friends.

After Gilbert prepared everything they were going to need, the two pairs stood on opposite sides of the room, Matthew in the middle, and everybody was ready for it to start.

"Let the games... Begin!"

"I will crush you, Jones!" Arthur's competitive spirit was shining through, and he tried to be intimidating by saying those exact words. All in all, he failed, but at least raised the ambitious atmosphere of the room.

"Oh, we'll see who's getting crushed, Kirkland!" Alfred replied with the same eagerness in his tone.

"The games might contain math problems, Al." His brother added.

Well, he was definitely the one getting crushed.

\- - -

After about two hours of exhausting math problems, drawing, throwing things at each other out of rage (well, that was only Arthur when he lost in fractions to Alfred), the game night was close to being over. They only had one more game to do, and it was already obvious who was the evening's winner.

"It's five wins to Arthur and Gilbert, one win to Alfred and Elizabeta! Step up your game, you two." Matthew announced. "This last game is for all the points. Whoever wins this, wins the whole thing."

Gathering everyone's attention, he continued speaking. "It's a quiz about everything and anything; from entertainment to science to random trivia. Five questions. Whoever answers at least three correctly, is the winner of tonight's game. Are you ready?"

"Ready!" The groups shouted out at the same time.

"Question number one. Who composed the music for the ballets Sleeping Beauty and Swan Lake?"

"Tchaikovsky!" Alfred shot the answer out in a matter of seconds, earning a high-five from his team mate.  
Arthur glared at him for a moment, whispering something along the lines of 'curse those musicians' before crossing his arms and waiting for the next question.

"That is correct! One point. Question number two. Who was known as the Welsh Wizard?"

"David Lloyd George!" With fierce and fiery voices, the Brit and the American yelled the correct answer at the same time. History was always their topic, and they couldn't help but smile a little even though they were in the middle of a battle.

"Correct! Both get one point. Question number three-"

Matthew's words were interrupted by a loud ringtone, and Alfred immediately recognized the song as his own. He ran over to the bed and found the cell phone under the pillow, feeling as if his entire bloodstream was frozen in a millisecond - though, he didn't show it.

"Hello?" He answered the call, his younger brother feeling a little bit tense and hoping that it wasn't who he thought it was.

There was faint shouting from the other side of the line, but the others weren't able to hear it. Only Alfred was. Face going pale, he sat on Gilbert's bed and silently waited for the shouting to stop.

"O-okay." It was the only word he got to say before hanging up, gripping the small device in his hand.

"Who was it?" Elizabeta asked, concerned for his friend who suddenly looked anxious, frightened and a whole bunch of other emotions she wasn't really able to read from his face. His eyes were filled with worry, and lips pursed together.

Matthew dreaded the answer, even though he knew it.

"It's dad. He got home early and now he's mad that we're not there", with a slightly nervous chuckle, he started putting on his shoes which stood next to the German's bed. His younger brother didn't respond, but the fear on his face was almost obvious.

"Oh... So you're leaving?" Gilbert asked with a small frown.

"Yeah, we have to. But tonight was fun, we'll do it again some time."

Taking Matthew quickly by the hand, the two brothers stormed out of their friend's house in a matter of minutes, knowing that this time, they both got themselves into some major trouble.  
Knowing their father, Alfred would be the one responsible for everything, the one getting punished and perhaps grounded until his death, but he'd do anything to protect Matthew. Even if that anything meant being full of bruises and in tears on what could have been a perfectly fun Saturday evening with friends.

They were walking home to a disaster, and they both knew what was about to come.


	17. Grasp for Release

As the two brothers were heading home in quick steps, fear and anxiety started settling itself deep inside of them, especially the older brother, Alfred, who tightly held Matthew by the hand while they ran, and ran to their destination.

Oh, they were so scared of opening that door. Their father was furious, and they regretted even going out in the first place without calculating the risk of the man getting home earlier than eleven.

The boys approached their home, steps slowing down as they got closer to the door. With gritted teeth, Alfred slowly opened it, hoping that he wouldn't get awaited by a painful nightmare coming to reality.  
Deep down, he knew that it was exactly what was about to happen, but he didn't dare admit it to himself.

"Where have you two been?" A harsh voice interrupted their frightened silence, and Alfred could feel his heartbeat quickening, and not in a good way, not like when he was walking with Arthur in the rain... It was a terrifying feeling, and he hated it to its core.

"U-uh, we were... With friends." He was the one to speak up first, tightening the hold on his younger brother's hand as he avoided eye contact with his father.

"Let me correct you there. You were outside, without my permission, using the time I'm absent to go hang out with your friends instead of doing something useful." The man glared at the older son, and Matthew was on the verge of breaking down in anger. It was always Alfred, everything was Alfred's fault even when it wasn't - truth be told, it was Matthew's idea to join their squad for tonight. "Did you catch my point... Alfred?"

The said boy stared down at his feet, too scared to say anything, too confused to make a simple move. He blamed it all on himself, even if he shouldn't have.

"Answer me!"

"Y-yes, I caught your point!"

"Then say it!" The father's voice took on a sharp, loud tone, scaring his two sons immediately.

"I... I made a mistake, alright? We shouldn't have gone out, we shouldn't have gone with our friends, but we're sorry, okay? What else do I have to say?" Alfred was shouting questions with a bit of aggression in them, but it was only to be expected. He couldn't hold in the overflowing emotion.

"Don't speak to me in that tone! Ever!"

One slap was followed by another even harsher one, and Alfred couldn't help but let out a squeaky sound of pain, feeling his breath stop for a moment. "I'm sorry!"

"Matthew, go to your room. Your brother and I need to have a little chat."

"I'm not going anywhere, leave Alfred alone! It's not his fault!" The younger crossed his arms in defence, but the momentary shield of anger failed him straight away.

Alfred motioned for him to go, to get out of this mess as soon as possible and not have to deal with their enraged father.

"Go away right now, I don't take no for an answer!"

The smaller boy stood in confusion for a moment, tears filling his eyes to the brim as he took his leave, mouthing a 'sorry' towards Alfred. He ran off to their shared room, slamming the door behind him and throwing a pillow over his head to block out the shouting and noises coming from the hallway.  
It was unbearable seeing Alfred in trouble again, especially this time for something he was guilty for, and not the older brother. But, with his physical strength there was nothing he could do, except bring them both into even bigger suffering.

"It was your plan, wasn't it? You thought you would fucking get away with it?" The father was raging towards Alfred, the boy backed against a wall, feeling his breath hitch as a hand was placed on both his shoulders.

"Yes, it was my plan! Just for once, dammit, just for once!" Alfred lied to protect Matthew, but as if his dad would believe him if he denied it. He preferred Matthew over him, all of them knew that.

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you it was only once, you lying piece of shit! Who knows where you had gone to these days while I was absent! Doing math with that Arthur kid again? You are under my control, and accept that already! You being a petty sixteen year old means absolutely nothing!"

Alfred could swear that he lost vision on a brief second, as another strident blow met the right side of his face, definitely leaving a visible bruise. Maybe it was from the immense pain, and maybe it was because he hit a nerve - he didn't know. All he knew was that it hurt. A lot.

"Please, stop... I-I did nothing, we did absolutely nothing...!" He was so close to tears, an aura of exhaustion already encircling him.

"You better do your work right now, and oh, I'm not going anywhere anymore! I can't trust you, I should have known better than to leave you alone with Matthew!"

Another hit. This one brought the boy to the floor, broke him from the inside and outside, made him feel like he really was a useless, lying piece of shit who can't do anything right.  
Not a single week passed. Not even a full week, and he was already back to square one, feeling desperate and like the pain was going to split him in half.  
Alfred's vision and hearing were both blurry, and he was extremely close to passing out. All he heard was another shout from the man standing above him, something about how untrustworthy, unreliable and straight up terrible he was, and he immediately broke into tears, somehow standing up, gripping the wall so he wouldn't fall back down. He ran off to the only place he considered safe, the bathroom. And before his father could stop him, he locked the door and took a sharp, painful inhale, tumbling down to the cold, bathroom floor.

Everything hurt. Nothing was okay.

He didn't understand how he was able to find himself in this miserable position once again, this time bruises visible on his face - that would have to be hidden so nobody could spot it.

He wasn't bleeding on the outside, but there was a waterfall of blood and hatred in his soul, pouring down inside of him and making him feel simply awful.

Slowly managing to sit up, he wasn't able to stop the tears that were streaming down his wet cheeks which were still painfully stinging.

I... I don't think I can hold it in anymore. It's too strong, and it's going to eat me alive if I don't do anything about it.

The urge to hurt himself was growing stronger, and he was oh, so fucking close to doing it. Spotting a sharp item out of the corner of his eye, he tried to prevent himself from taking it by gripping the washbasin very tighly, but...

I got it. I can't stop myself. Pulling up the sleeve on his left arm, his breath shuddered at the thought. First running his fingers over the clear, tingling skin, he ran the sharp, metal item resembling a razor blade over the sensitive part, tears blurring his vision as the crimson drops of blood rolled down from his arm to his hand, the open wound stingy and painful. But, somehow, it managed to give him a tiny bit of relief.  
So he did the same movement again, this time swiftly and silently, lips trembling at the burning pain he was suddenly engulfed in.

Oh, it felt good. He felt a release of all the bad words his father threw at him today. Letting out his sorrow, it was something new and different.

Once more, he thought to himself, doing exactly as his unstable mind told him to.

It hurt in the best way possible, or so he thought.

Sitting straight up on the floor, he cleared the blood off with toilet paper, deleting all evidence that anything like that had ever happened on this very bathroom floor. The only problem was the blood which was still flowing from the three freshly opened wounds, not stopping its constant flow. He decided to examine it a little more, a small part of him feeling guilty for doing something that he had tried to avoid for such a long time now.

I feel... Relief. A painful kind of relief, and I don't even know what's going on anymore.

I've officially reached my lowest point.

And I'm not sure whether I feel good or bad about it.

After a couple of minutes of holding a piece of white cloth over the flowing blood, it calmed down leaving Alfred with only a few more drops which he easily wiped off, washing the rag with a bit of soap - surprisingly, the red stains were disappearing quickly - and putting it in the most convenient looking spot, under a bunch of other rags which looked clean and not touched in a long time.

Pulling down his sleeve and placing the sharp piece of metal where it stood before he used it on himself, he stood up with a sigh.

His entire body was lightly trembling, and he felt a bit nauseous. But, shrugging the feeling off the best he could, he softly and almost silently unlocked the bathroom door and snuck out towards the bedroom. Once he opened the door, he spotted Matthew curled up on his own bed, breathing softly and hugging a pillow. It was a tense evening for both brothers, and Alfred knew very well that what he had just done had to be hidden from absolutely every person he had ever known.

"Matthew, are you alright?" He asked in a gentle voice, approaching his brother's bed.

"Y-you're the one asking me?! Alfred, I'm--"

"I'm okay." The older replied with a smile, the trembling slowly disappearing into nothingness, leaving him with an exhausted body which just needed to lay down a little bit. Which was exactly what he had done. Softly climbing onto his bed, he was still facing his brother on the opposite side of the room, quickly forgetting about the pain in his arm that brought him the slight relief he felt now.

"No... No, you're not! Look at yourself, I know you cried, I know what he told you..." The younger brother cried, trying to make it as silent as possible.

"Matt, please... It's alright. I can live through it."

"...You took the blame for me."

"I know."

"Why did you do that, Alfred? M-maybe he would have let you go untouched if you just told him that I--"

"Absolutely not. Out of the question. I will never let dad hurt you, understand? If he lays a finger on you, he's a dead man." Alfred's expression became a more serious one, a protective instinct burning inside of his eyes. Since their mother died, the older brother took taking care of Matthew as a much more determined and steadier job of his, and he would go out of boundaries just to protect him.

Matthew stayed quiet, sharing a soft look with his brother before wiping off some of his tears, blinking away those which threatened to spill.

"...Thank you."


	18. Broken Fairytale

"...Thank you."

Alfred gave a soft smile towards his crying little brother, not knowing what to do to comfort the younger and tell him he was okay. Today had been a total mess, and the boy could officially call it the worst Saturday of his life. Because even though he spent the majority of the day hanging out with his friends, coming back home was awaited with a living nightmare - screaming, shouting, emotional and physical pain which he couldn't bare on his own anymore, that made him do a thing he tried to keep distant from for a long time now.

Hurting himself.

"I've said it before, I'll say it again. You don't need to thank me." The older boy replied in a gentle, but tired tone of voice.

He was all in all exhausted, scared to leave his room while his father was present, and on top of all, it would be difficult to hide his dirty little secret from not only Matthew, but Arthur as well.

Arthur, as Alfred's boyfriend, gave the other so much care, but that came in the package with asking a lot of questions, wondering about what could possibly be happening in Alfred's home to make him suddenly act differently.

"Alfred?" Matthew said the name in the form of a question, snapping the said American out of his thoughts and immediately getting his attention.

"Yeah?"

"I have to ask you something. But be completely honest with me, because I really don't know the answer."

"Go ahead." Alfred sat up just slightly, accommodating himself in a more comfortable position.

"Why... Why don't we ask for help? We could easily get out of all this mess by just telling someone. Then why are we staying silent about it and letting it get worse?"  
The younger boy had a pained expression on his face, reading all the sorrow off Alfred's face. He hated to see him like this and would do anything to fix it.

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows out of confusion, pursing his lips together and thinking about the question for a longer minute. It was a good one, but a seriously difficult one to answer right on the spot.  
"Because... Because I'm scared, alright?! I don't want anyone feeling bad about what's happening to us, I don't want to bother anyone with our problems and I am scared of being helpless again! We lost mum, are you sure we want to lose dad as well? Even if he's like this... He's our dad. He will get better, we will get better... It's for the best that we just keep it silent."

Matthew remained speechless.

Alfred had a really good point, and the way his voice went unsteady and rigid just showed how many bottled up emotions he held about the entire situation.

They would just have to wait and see what happens.

\- - -

Alfred and Matthew weren't the only one lost in thought.

Arthur sat on his bed silently, slowly strumming the strings on his guitar in a relaxing rhythm. Since Alfred and him played together, he spent more and more time with the instrument, using it whenever he felt happy, sad or all in all confused about life and love.

Soon after the two brothers left the game night, everybody went home as well, each person in their own direction, but none of them were extremely worried about Alfred's facial expressions during that short call which interrupted their quiz, or the quick goodbye the two boys said before running out of Gilbert's house as if it were on fire.

No one except Arthur.

He was worried sick about Alfred, to the point of skipping dinner once he got home, and getting concerned looks from his parents and brothers.  
Now he was alone in the room, not knowing what to do or how to react to the entire thing. Maybe, just maybe, nothing was wrong, he was imagining things, Alfred was fine, and he was overreacting.

But deep down, he sensed that it wasn't true.

"Perhaps I should give him a call..." He muttered under his breath, but soon gave that idea up. "No, he's alright, I'm just worrying too much... But goddammit, I can't shake off the feeling that something is terribly wrong!"

I said that out loud, haven't I?  
I suppose so.

So what should I do about it? I have no bloody clue.

Playing a few familiar, D minor chords on the guitar, he let out a long, tired exhale.

"I'm in love, with a fairytale..."

He softly started singing the lyrics to a very special song to him, a tear or two escaping his eyes without his consent.

All he wanted was for Alfred to be happy, and he would move a mountain to achieve that. Anything.

"...even though it hurts..."

Even if it meant losing his mind.

"Cause I don't care if I lose my mind..."

Turning the song into a ballad, his beautiful, gentle voice echoed through the walls of the big room, and soon enough he started crying. Although, the melody didn't stop, and the boy kept playing every single chord correctly, changing the rhythm completely to a slow and more tender, softer version.

"I'm already cursed..."

\- - -

Alfred didn't feel alright. Soon after getting out of that bathroom with unsteady steps, guilt washed over his relief and made him scared - what if somebody found out? He would just have to keep a secret really well. He knew for sure that wouldn't be the last time he did it, since the satisfaction he got from the momentary pain was almost... Addictive. It helped to at least get his mind off his father's words for some time.

Although, his arm was now hurting, and he had to hide any signs of discomfort from Matthew.

The younger brother was staring at the ceiling, thinking about the words he heard from Alfred only minutes ago, realizing how true and real they were. He didn't understand what the two of them ever did to the world to deserve any of this. All he wanted was a whole and happy family and for his brother to be happy again, and was on the edge of envy towards every other person who had that.

Alfred was officially terrified of his father, to the point of not being able to see the man or look him in the eyes. If there was a way to avoid him, the boy was ready to do it. The worst part was that he believed absolutely everything that the man told him, even the most hateful words. They were all another scrap of darkness on his heart, and he already had a huge collection of those bottled up inside. All in all, there weren't many things left that made him continue living.

The way in which the situation escalated from verbal to physical in a bit more than a week was daunting, horrifying and frightening to even think about. He was afraid of what his father would do the next time he made a mistake - or, better said, the next time he had an anger outburst and needed to take it out on someone - and how painful it would be not only for his body, but for his mind. He wondered whether he would hold it out at all.

"What are you thinking about?" Matthew suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had fallen upon their room after Alfred's words.

"A lot of things at once, I guess." The boy replied with an almost unnoticeable shrug of his shoulders. "Why?"

"Well... There's another thing I have to ask you."

"Sure, do it..." Alfred sighed, really not in the mood for extra questions. But, he would do anything for Matthew.

"What if somebody found out? What would we do then? Deny, say it isn't true, or just come clean about the whole situation?"

The older boy sat up to face the other, letting out a small and silent hiss from pain as his arm was in an uncomfortable position for the wounds that were still very sensitive. "I say deny it. If you laugh it off and say that they're just overthinking everything, there's a big chance the person will believe you."

"Did anyone ever ask you...?" Matthew was curious, especially because of the speed in which Alfred thought of the answer.

"Yes. Arthur did, once. I told him everything was fine, hopefully he believed me. And since he didn't ask again, I think he did believe me."

It was just a matter of time when Arthur would find out the truth, and Alfred was sure that would be the day everything goes downhill. He had no doubt that if the boy found out, he would leave him, think of him in a completely different way, or tell everybody else. Some of those, that was sure.  
It had to be a secret and remain a secret.

"Are you sure he believed you and forgot about it?"

"...No."


	19. Never Satisfied

Monday

That morning, Alfred surprisingly woke up without the help and pleading of his little brother, getting up as quickly as it was possible and soon running off to the kitchen. Their father was luckily still asleep, and the boys had just enough time for some tea and hot chocolate - which Matthew had already prepared for them both - before they had to storm off to catch the bus to school.

"I'm amazed you managed to wake up on time for once", Matthew teased, sipping a bit of his tea and placing the cup back on the dining table as he put the last few books in his backpack.

"Good morning to you too." Alfred just threw a sharp glare and took a sip of his drink without even bothering to reply to the brother's words.

What Matthew didn't know was that his older brother actually managed to fall asleep easily last night, but that was just because of the pain he caused himself on purpose when nobody was present and around. It helped, at least momentary, and once he did it, he wasn't able to suddenly stop. Even if he felt guilty with each new scar that appeared underneath the thick sleeves of his hoodie in just two days, he didn't easily quit. It was a new and strange experience that subsided the pain of his father's words and actions.

"How'd you sleep?" The younger asked while he zipped up the school bag and finished the mild and lukewarm tea from the cup.

"Fine", Alfred responded in a single word, not having the energy to respond with a sentence longer than that. He gulped down the hot chocolate and laid the mug back on the table, disappearing towards the hallway to put on his shoes, throw on a jacket and get fully ready to go out. This November morning was cold, windy and rainy, the perfect weather to stay home. But no, they just had to have school today.

When both of them got ready, they immediately ran out of the house and were immediately exposed by the harsh and awfully cold wind. Instinctively, Alfred took Matthew by the hand on the spot in a way of protecting him, holding the younger boy close. "Today's rough, isn't it?" He muttered under his breath, coughing just slightly from the sudden effect of the crispy, late autumn air.

"Does the bus even drive today? Maybe the traffic isn't even open because of the weather!" Matthew asked with a tiny bit of concern - the last thing he needed was to go to school by foot in a goddamn storm. Rain was pouring over them, bucketing down, and they were soaked just by stepping outside for five minutes.

"It has to, not everyone has a ride to school", Alfred hoped that it was true, since he frankly wasn't in the mood to deal with heavy rain and certainly didn't want to catch a cold. "Although I'm not so sure."

Luckily for not only them, but more children who didn't have anyone to drive them to school except of a small school bus, their beloved public transport had arrived at the station and a whole bunch of students got on, including not only the two American brothers, but also Arthur and Elizabeta.

"The weather is straight up terrible today", Arthur was the one to start a conversation, getting hums and nods of agreement from not only his friends, but a couple of other people on the bus. "I'm all drenched from the fifteen minutes I walked."

"Well, this is England after all, what do you expect?" Alfred joined in, still a little bit cranky as it was too early and he was too moody for a normal, casual chat.

"I don't need an American pretending to be an expert on London, thank you very much", Arthur gave the other a sharp and quick glare, but a smile broke out on his face soon enough nonetheless.

Elizabeta didn't talk much, but rather shut herself out and gently tapped her foot on the ground in the rhythm of the music which could be heard from her earphones - she must have turned it up really loud without even realizing. Knowing she had an oral English exam today, all she did was silently revise the information in her head, letting no one and nothing be a distraction to her. Matthew, on the other side, didn't engage in the conversation whatsoever, spacing out and thinking about a completely different thing.

"Sorry, I'm not in the best mood today", Alfred quickly apologized, a small and embarrassed chuckle escaping his throat. "And the English exams are today, that doesn't help."

"At least English is simple." The Brit shrugged, showing absolutely no worry about the upcoming class. He did all his work on time, unlike Alfred, and practised even more than needed for the exam - but that was just because he always enjoyed the class.  
Alfred liked English, but wasn't too fond of the infinity of pages they needed to work on every week. Grammar was simple, yet he managed to pass the last test by merely one point.

"If nothing, we have History as well so the day won't be a complete failure." The younger boy actually managed to smile a little bit, breaking the mildly tense atmosphere with a mention of the topic that both of them enjoyed.

Arthur had to agree with that statement, but as soon as he was going to reply, the bus stopped on the station right in front of their school, meaning that they unfortunately had to get off and quickly head to class. "Let's go." Alfred said, taking his little brother by the hand once again. The second that they stepped out of the vehicle, they shivered from the cold and swiftly ran into the big building along with a group of other students.

Their first class was English, and Matthew's was Chemistry, which meant parting and running off to the classrooms they needed to be in.

"See you at lunchbreak!" Matthew managed to shout and wave to Arthur, Alfred and Elizabeta who finally made their way to English class where they were awaited by their teacher.

It didn't seem like such a bad day.

But on the other side, it had just begun.

\- - -

"Alright, everyone. As you already know, we have oral exams today. I hope you've all prepared yourselves well because it certainly won't be as easy as most of you think it will be." The young and calm English teacher announced today's class, fixing up her glasses and her curly, long and luxuriant dark hair which almost blocked her sight.

Alfred and Elizabeta were sitting in the front row, as usual, and hoped that they wouldn't be the ones chosen - especially the girl, who wasn't exactly the best in English considering it wasn't even her first language. She also had a tiny bit of an accent which clearly showed she was foreign, and tried her best to achieve a proper accent like most of her classmates. But as much as she tried, there was still this different taste to it. On the other side, Alfred was told a countless amount of time that the way he spoke was annoying, loud and pretentious. Not his fault he was born and raised a New Yorker, and not a Londoner. He liked his accent and pronunciation and wanted to stay true to his roots, no matter where he lived.

A few students had their knowledge of English compound-complex and other types of sentences tested, and the American felt lucky for not being one of those. Even if the questions were simple and he knew the answer to almost all of them, he didn't want to do it anyway.

"Next up is Alfred Jones."

Oh well, maybe he wasn't so lucky after all.

Getting up from his seat, he walked up in front of the blackboard and looked over to Arthur and Elizabeta, who gave him nods of support. He smiled a bit, feeling tense but calm at the same time, and waited for the professor to ask him the first question. Without even noticing, he was fidgeting with the sleeves of his grey hoodie, relieving that slight bit of tension hiding inside of him.

"Right, let's see... What is a complex sentence?"

"A complex sentence is a sentence which contains a subordinate and an independent clause." He recited the words without a problem, surprising even himself since he didn't study all too much.

"Correct. Give me an example of a simple sentence and explain why it fits that category."

"Uh, for example... I have a book. That's a simple sentence because it only contains a subject, a verb and an object and it expresses the complete thought."

"That's also right."

After about ten more minutes which to Alfred felt like an infinite and endless amount of time, he finally answered all the questions and was sent back to his seat with a positive comment from the teacher. He felt satisfied about it, and actually kind of glad that he got chosen. It was an easy A.

"Damn, you were pretty good", Elizabeta whispered over to him, to which he replied with nothing more but a friendly smile.

Even if it practically just started, Alfred had a feeling that today definitely wouldn't be a failed day, and hoped that in the evening, he could go to bed satisfied, happy and glad that he was alive, since that was something he hadn't experienced in quite a while.

Oh, if only it could happen.


	20. Decision

After a well spent English class and an incredible as always History, came the class which Alfred had always dreaded - Maths. For some ungodly reason, they had to have at least forty-five minutes of math each day, even more than they had English which was held only four times a week.

Today, they were supposed to have a ten minute exam, and Alfred still didn't understand a single thing about linear equations with two variables or anything connected to that. That meant he would have to be very careful and copy everything from Arthur who most probably would solve every problem correctly.

"You only need a pen on the table, ten minutes to solve these, and when you're done pass them over to my table." The strict math teacher said the instructions in a monotone voice, certainly not in a good mood. But on the other hand, when was she in a good mood? "Don't ask any questions, don't copy from your desk mates, that's it. You may begin."

Alfred snatched a pen from his pencil case, zipping up his backpack and sitting himself in a perfect position to copy and not be seen by the teacher. Hopefully. Arthur already knew he would have to sit a little bit closer to the boy, holding the test paper in a slightly different angle than usually so the other could have a clear sight of it.

"Oh, and, Jones and Kirkland are definitely not sitting together. I already know who copies from whom."

Goddammit, I'm screwed.

Taking his test paper, the American sighed and moved to the seat completely in the back behind a Belgian exchange student Emma, who was a fairly kind person and might even help him with these if there was time for everyone to do it.

Which there wasn't.

Alfred stared at the piece of paper with five math problems written on them, and all he knew how to do was sign his name at the top.

I... Don't even know what any of this means.  
Do the variables go on the left or on the right? Uh, I seriously suck at this.

Great. Dad is going to kill me when he sees another bad grade in math.  
It's not my fault I don't understand these!

Oh well, maybe it is. I'm just an idiot.

Okay, I will at least try to do one.

Carefully writing a couple of numbers down, he somehow managed to do the first part of the problem, but only partially and messily because of the insecurity in what he was doing. The second part, now, he didn't know how to solve, so instead of overthinking all his life decisions he just wrote a long row of numbers that seemed right, but most probably weren't.

I'm so going to fail this. Why did she separate me from Arthur, dammit?! I'm not the only one who copies anyway. I'm sure half of the class copies from their super intelligent desk mates anyway.

"Time's up!"

You've got to be kidding me.

The realization hit him - he spent almost all the time in his own thoughts, and less than two minutes on actually doing the math problems. But since he didn't know how to do them anyway, he just carelessly passed the test paper to the teacher along with the entire class and got back to his seat with Arthur.  
This was a total failure, and he knew it.

"So, did you do anything?" The Brit whispered over to him once they were able to sit together again, looking at him with a hint of worry in his green eyes.

"Absolutely nothing." Alfred replied with a sigh, shaking his head to his own disappointment. "I really don't understand how to do it."

"I would offer to help, but I suppose you're probably not allowed to come over to my place, and I already know I can't come to yours except if your father's out." Arthur shrugged, an apologetic look written all over his face.

Arthur was right - there was no way for the two of them to meet after school, and Alfred was too scared to risk anything by staying in school longer. Especially since Saturday, he couldn't even look his father in the eyes anymore.

In a way, his entire world was crashing down, the bricks were falling on top of him, but nobody was there to see it and to get him out of the dust and bruises he was covered in. He couldn't even imagine what other students would talk about him behind their backs if they discovered his story and the situation in his private life, it was something he didn't even want to think about.

"That's okay, I hope I at least figure it out before the big exam."

"I bet you will."

Once the teacher started speaking, the two boys started paying attention and turned to face the redhead lady who glared at the entire class as if they were about to face death. "I will bring you the results tomorrow. I expect no negative marks, since we've been doing this for over a week. You all should know how to do linear equations already."

"Wow, she obviously forgot I exist", Alfred whispered, making both of them crack up a silent laugh.

The rest of the class was awfully boring, and Arthur had to keep his desk mate alive and awake by poking his shoulder about every five minutes, one time just barely succeeding.

Just when he thought the day was going fine, there came math class and ruined it all.

And he really didn't care.

\- - -

Lunchbreak seemed to come so soon, and Alfred found himself in the company of Matthew, Arthur, Gilbert and Elizabeta in the school cafeteria. He didn't eat a thing, which concerned his friends - although they didn't say a single word about it.

The truth was, Alfred really wasn't in the mood for food lately. It might have been because at home, his father cooked barely anything, and all he got was a sandwich or two, mostly what Matthew made, and at school he just didn't feel like eating.  
Of course, that worried his brother greatly, but he knew that he'd come to his senses one day or the other.

"So, how is everybody?" The older American asked his friends with a smile on, sitting on a chair between Matthew and Arthur. The German replied only by holding up a physics workbook and putting it back down, which clearly meant 'don't disturb, I have an exam and I'm too busy with my work to pay attention to any of you'. So he left him alone.

"More important, how are you?" Elizabeta questioned, as cheerful and oblivious as she always was.

All of Alfred's bruises and scars were well hidden, impossible to be seen by any of his friends, so he felt safe and away from any questions that might cause him discomfort. But, even the simplest question like 'how are you' could make him feel distress, since he absolutely hated lying to his friends. For him, that was the worst feeling, and it made him nervous he had to do it day by day. Especially in the last week or so.  
"Pissed off about math class. She separated me from Arthur, so I couldn't copy anything."

"Thank you for your concern about me, love", the mentioned Brit sarcastically added to the conversation, as always enjoying to tease his significant other. That was their relationship since Alfred had moved to London and they first met - teasing and bickering all the time, but it was all in a friendly (or more than friendly) way.

Matthew and Elizabeta couldn't help but share a mocking look at the couple.

Arthur still couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad was happening to his closest one, as hard as he tried it always came back to him at the weirdest moments. Just one quick glance or second long eye contact made him question how fine the boy actually was. He began to overthing and overanalyze, spotting things he had never spotted before - from Alfred's sudden worsening in concentration, work and will to do things, lack of sleep and appetite, the feeling of constant tension radiating off the boy to the non stop fidgeting with his sleeves, introversion and everything that Alfred never before was.

Soon enough, he spaced out, the anxiety building up inside him, all kinds of thoughts about what it could be were clouding his mind, until he finally broke down and stood up from the table with both hands slamming down on the table. Everybody stared at him in awe, and just now spotted how exhausted he actually looked.

"Alfred, come with me for a moment."

Without hesitation, he pulled the confused American by the hand and out of the chair, the other making an almost silent yelp because of the stinging pain in his arm that decided to come back after the harsh pull. He was wide eyed and certainly not ready for anything that Arthur was trying to do.  
All of their friends stayed behind and remained sitting in the cafeteria, but with the same amount of confusion on their faces as their American friend.

Once they both stormed out towards the school back yard where Arthur was leading them to, the older boy looked at Alfred with pure seriousness, holding both of his hands. They were alone, no one ever hung out in these areas of the school, and most bound and determined conversations were held here between the students, usually after class if it was something really important.

"W-why are we here?" Alfred stuttered a bit, nervous about the whole situation.

"Because I have a feeling there's something very big and important bothering you, and you're not telling me! I can't sleep, I can't think properly because there's something in the back of my mind telling me that Alfred Jones is not okay! Why can't you just tell me? Tell me that I'm overthinking it, if that's the case, anything, just... I need to know!"

For a longer moment, silence fell upon the two boys, and only the constant, harsh wind could be heard in the background.

Alfred looked somewhere to the side, not daring to make eye contact with two concerned, kind of angry green eyes. He wasn't ready to tell anyone, especially not Arthur.

"I already told you, everything is perfectly fine. You're seriously overthinking it."

"You can tell me anything, I swear to my life I won't tell anyone else. I just need to know if you're feeling alright. I care about you, Alfred... A lot. I'll be there to help you if you need it." The gentle voice of the Brit touched the American somewhere deep within, and he was so close to spilling all of his long kept secrets - just because of the warmth, trust and comfort he felt around the other.

But, he couldn't.

"Okay, fine." He decided to rather make up a believable lie. "I'm worried that if I keep failing in school like this, I won't be able to get into the music academy that I wanted to. I might overwork myself a bit, but it's really nothing to be worried about. Winter holidays are soon anyway, I will get some rest."  
Well, the majority of that wasn't even a lie. He really did worry about the Royal Academy of Music and the possibility of getting in with his grades at the moment, along with his father who didn't even want him to go there and didn't support him whatsoever.

"...That's it?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, not completely believing the story, but he felt as if that something inside calmed down a slight, almost unnoticeable bit. "Are you sure?"

"Completely."

No. I'm not sure. I wish I could tell you every part of it, tell you about every single bottled up emotion I've held inside for years, I wish I could cry it out and forget about it all...

But I can't. I'm stuck here and who knows for how long I will remain that way.

My decision has been made. I'll wait it out and hold on to that last bit of hope.

Even if it kills me.


	21. Isolation

A bit later in the day, when school was finished, Alfred, his brother and their friends all managed to catch the bus to home. It was a rare happening, since Gilbert sometimes had his parents pick him up, Arthur went by foot a lot of times, so they were happy to have their time together.

The British boy still didn't fully believe Alfred since their little conversation at lunchbreak, and was now stuck in one of the biggest dilemmas of his life - should he stay true to the one he loved and respect his privacy, or try to help and find the root of his problem, even with the cost of Alfred getting mad at him for doing such a thing?

"Today was quite an exhausting day. I say we all get together this afternoon for some warm drinks and a movie! We don't have that much homework, and it seems like a good time for that. Who's in?" Elizabeta, the happy Hungarian girl, proposed a suggestion, hoping that she'd get positive answers to it.

As much as Alfred wanted to, he knew he wasn't able to leave his house today. His dad was home, and even if he weren't, the boy was currently trapped in a ball of constant fear that something bad would happen to him and bring him down to an even worse mental state than he already was in. "I'll have to pass... I doubt I'd be allowed to go anywere on a Monday."

"Same with me." Matthew added on, which was perfectly reasonable. If Alfred couldn't go, it was already obvious that he wouldn't go either.

"Fine... What about you, Arthur?" Elizabeta seemed a little bit disappointed, but still held on hope that the Brit would be free. Of course, Gilbert didn't even need to be asked. He used every single possible second to hang out with the girl.

"I'm not sure, but I'll call you if I can come along."  
In reality, Arthur was always free to hang out. His football trainings were once or twice in two weeks, and he didn't have any extracurricular activities besides that. But, lately, his thoughts and worries about Alfred were constant and actually quite overwhelming, and he just wanted to stay in his room for a while, relax with his guitar and think about how to solve this problem and what it was in the first place.

Once the school bus stopped at the first station, Alfred, Arthur and his brother got off and greeted the rest of their friends goodbye. The Brit had about fifteen more minutes to go by foot unlike the American brothers - their house was right by the station.

"So... I'll see you around." Arthur softly smiled to the other, fixing up his backpack so it would be more comfortable over his shoulder.

"Yeah, see you", Alfred shyly replied before they parted, the two brothers heading towards their home. Matthew couldn't help but smile a little at the two, loving their closeness, especially that look in his older brother's eyes which clearly said how much he was in love.

"It's so nice to see you in love, you know that?" The younger American said as they slowly made their way to the house in no hurry whatsoever.

Alfred didn't reply in words, but just gave a pleased, happy look towards Matthew. "Yes, well... I'm enjoying it too."

He truly didn't hurry home, and would in all honesty rather stay outside than have to look his father in the eyes again. Lately, especially in the past couple of weeks, coming home was nothing more but feeling scared and anxious, with a strong will to escape. Truth be told, he spent a few nights completely awake, lost in the thought of how nice it would be to run away and never come back - but then, the thought of his younger brother who still needed to be protected flashed in his mind and he just couldn't bring himself to leave.

It would be selfish.

With visible hesitation, he unlocked the door, Matthew getting in first. Luckily, their dad seemed to be busy with someone on the phone, shouting as he always did, so they went to their room unnoticed.

It's unbelievable how angry one person can be all the time.

I don't understand it whatsoever.

"So, do I just cook some pasta or something? You haven't eaten absolutely anything today." Matthew asked as he dropped his backpack on the floor next to his bed, followed by Alfred who did the same movement.

"No need to, I'm not hungry. " The taller boy shrugged, shaking his head. Food was his most meaningless worry right now. He didn't have the energy for it, and all he had in plan was lay on his bed and think of a way to motivate himself to do actual work. Which was going to be quite difficult.

"Alfred, don't be a child. You must eat something."

As much as Alfred took care of Matthew, the younger took care of Alfred as well - maybe in more of a motherly way than a person would expect. Surprisingly, the brothers almost never fought, unlike all other siblings who fight almost all the time. It was just not in their nature, especially not Matthew's. They loved each other to infinity, and if they lost each other it would most certainly be a tremendous tragedy. All they wanted was for the other to feel happy, and protected as much as it was possible in a small, broken family without a visible way out of a mess they were stuck in.

"...Fine." Alfred gave in soon enough, seeing as it would be irrational to start an argument over such a thing.

Especially with Matthew.

And while they discussed what to have for lunch, their father still talked on the phone about what seemed to be a serious issue. Work or home related, the boys didn't really understand from the few angrily said lines they managed to hear from the man's bedroom, but they knew he was in a severely bad mood.

"I'll talk about it with my son. I understand. Okay. Okay! I get it! Goodbye." And with that, the blonde man walked into the living room, throwing his phone onto the couch in total frustration, not even noticing that Alfred and Matthew were both in the kitchen.

He'll talk about what with which son? This is all making me a tiny bit concerned. But just a little.

"Alfred, we need to talk."

Okay, maybe more than a little.

Whatever it was they needed to talk about, it suddenly made the said boy feel frightened, his entire bloodstream feeling as if it momentarily froze. Matthew and him exchanged a worried look, but Alfred nevertheless approached their father in a slow, careful manner. "A-about what?"

Just please, don't hurt me. That's all I'm asking.

"I got a call from school. There have been a lot of recent complaints about you falling behind in work."

Oh dear lord, not this again. "I see."

"And your class teacher said that she spotted a change in your behaviour in the past months, even more in the past week or two."

I'm just really surprised he is managing to stay calm. Maybe he lashed out all his anger at my poor class teacher on the phone.

"So she told me to check on you more, and maybe help you with what you don't understand. Which is absurd, is she trying to tell me I'm not a good parent or something?"

At least you're honest and objective, unlike most parents. I guess that's a... Quality? Alfred thought, a bit confused what to think of his father. "I don't need help."

"I wasn't offering it."

From the kitchen, Matthew listened to every word of the conversation in complete silence, quite taken aback and amazed at how peaceful, with a hint of passive-agressiveness, the dialogue sounded like.

"Then what are you suggesting?" The older boy was still puzzled and perplexed.

"I'm suggesting a tactic that I like to call isolation. If you're falling behind in your work, which you are, you must isolate from your friends and social life completely, until you finally get something correctly done. And once you do, you can reward yourself with a day out, a nice dinner or whatever you find pleasant."

Wait, hold on a second. Is my dad actually being... Partially rational for once?

This does seem like a tactic a crazy physicist would use while having troubles researching dark matter, and I surely am already isolated enough, but... I'm awfully surprised he hadn't burst out on me yet.

"I... Suppose I can do that, but, aren't I already stuck in my room until I do all my work?" Alfred didn't want to argue. As much as he found the plan quite ridiculous for any sixteen year old boy who had no intention to research theoretical science, he didn't want to get on his father's bad side again. A day without being yelled at was deeply appreciated, and just thinking about how miserable he felt when the man's anger was unleashed in a bit more than just words made him stay as polite as possible.

"I really don't give a shit, you know? It's not like I'm asking you do you want to or not, you have to."

I kind of guessed that already, honestly.

Oh well, if being able to reward myself with whatever I want means being able to practise piano without him stopping me, and going out with Arthur once in a while, I don't see why this will be a problem.

"Fine."

"Great. I don't want you a minute late from school, I don't want to see a single bad grade, and you're certainly not going out anywhere, not even piano class which I know you secretly go to even when I say you can't, and you can't go to Scotland for Christmas holidays like we've planned to."

How about you just put me in a cell, lock me up until you feel like letting me out, put me on a leash, don't give me any food and make me work for free?  
I mean, if that won't help a person who wishes to be wiped off the face of Earth, then I don't know what will.

Oh, and, have fun in Scotland without me.

I'll be fine.


	22. Something's Wrong

Alfred felt absolutely miserable.

A massive, endless and unstoppable chain of thoughts was wrapped around his mind and kept him almost paralyzed as he stared at the ceiling, a strange feeling of numbness taking over his body. He wasn't able to work, study, practise piano or think properly, and he felt so... Alone.

Matthew and his father went grocery shopping, leaving the boy alone at home since he wasn't allowed to even glance at the outside world. Not that he was able to in the first place.  
After the two left the house, he couldn't help but drown his pain in the bathroom, needing only some personal space and a small, sharp object, but his own deeds left him feeling nothing but broken. And he couldn't stop.

In four very simple words - Alfred hit rock bottom. He hated himself like never before, despised life and looked for irrational reasons why he deserved everything that was happening to him.  
He was tired. Tired of the constant yelling, orders, commands, violence and the destructive, killing behaviour in a family that should have been so perfect, and used to be so loving. What happened to that? Where had the love gone, and at which point did it turn into hatred?

Suddenly, he wanted to abandon everything he had ever dreamed about. He felt as if his life was a worthless piece of paper which just needs to be ripped apart and thrown away, without any meaning.  
In the back of his mind, there was a faint sound of music. C minor. With each chord he could hear, he felt himself break down more and more, the overwhelming sensitivity causing him to slowly, and silently... Cry.

Isolation. A word that reminded him of nothing but his misery. Gradually, he was drifting apart from his only friends, even if it didn't seem like that on first sight. Distancing was the only way of protecting his secrets, and not getting in trouble at home as much as he usually did.  
But, he didn't want that.  
With all his heart and soul he loved his friends, and nothing could change that.

All in all, Alfred felt trapped. Trapped inside four narrow, dark walls which were coming closer and closer, and he was losing his balance again and again, out of breath and out of everyone's sight.

Keeping a happy mask on for the outside world began to be an exhausting piece of work, and it was just a matter of time when he'd accidentally let go of his false face, spilling his secrets, emotions and life to somebody else.

He wondered how good it would be to just not exist at all, to be deleted from memory and the universe as if nothing ever happened.

Unexpectedly, his sorrowful thinking was interrupted by the awfully loud ringtone of his cell phone, and he didn't know whether to pick it up or not. The phone was all the way on the desk, and he had very little energy - but decided to get it anyway. Who knew, it might be important.

Fatigue gracing his every movement, he got up with a sigh and grabbed the needed item which stood right next to an unopened biology book. A great reminder about a thing he wasn't planning on reading any time soon.

The caller was no one else but Arthur Kirkland. Clearing his throat a little and wiping off the tears from his face, he swiped to answer the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Alfred! I was wondering... I know you already denied Elizabeta's invitation today but... Do you want to meet up? My place is free, we can do whatever."

"I-I'd love to, but I'm not allowed to." Alfred's voice was still a little bit shaky, and the boy on the other line noticed that immediately.

"Alfred, are you alright?" He asked, frowning in worry.

"Yes, why?"

"You sound like you've been crying."

That's because I have. But I can't say that, right?

"Oh, my throat is just a bit dry, nothing important."

But Arthur didn't believe a word of that. "Are you sure? That's... Usually not how a person who has the common cold sounds like. It's okay to cry, you know! I wouldn't laugh or anything. You can tell me."

"It's alright, don't worry." Alfred forced a laugh, tightly clenching his phone in his hand out of frustration. Why on Earth did Arthur have to ask so many questions all the time?

"Honestly, I'm not so sure about that."

"W-what do you mean?"

"Alfred. Don't lie to me. Something's wrong."

\- - -

That was it. Arthur wasn't just worried sick and out of his mind, but also insulted and mad because something was obviously awfully wrong in Alfred's current life, and he was hiding it from him! That's not something a couple does, or best friends do.

And while the American was trying to defend himself from the other side of the phone, almost in tears, the Brit was getting frustrated by every single word that came out of the other.

"Alfred, stop!"

So he went silent.

"Stop talking, alright?! Let me speak! Please, let me help you...! You don't have to tell me what's wrong. I understand, it might be something really personal or embarrassing, but if it's serious you have to tell somebody! An adult, a counselor... The school nurse can help. Listen to me. You're strong. You're brave. Most people go through a hard time in their lives, but you don't have to go through it alone! I'm here. I'll comfort you, tell you how wonderful you are and give you the best hugs I can. Just... Try to feel positive. At least a little bit. Okay?"

Arthur's voice was soft, caring, and it was everything that Alfred needed to hear. He didn't hear this kind of tone since his mother left this world, and it left him completely speechless.  
Right after a complete mental breakdown, for the first time in forever he had comfort. A warm feeling settled somewhere deep within his body, and he stopped crying.

"...Thank you, thank you so much..." He said in an unsteady voice, his entire being lightly trembling.

"You don't need to thank me, Alfred. A big enough thank you to me is to see you happy."

And on a second, there was brightness.

\- - -

A bit later after Alfred's and Arthur's phone call, once evening had fallen upon the dusty, old streets of London, Matthew and their father finally arrived at home, bringing three big shopping bags along with them.

The younger American placed one next to the kitchen counter, and headed directly to his and his brother's bedroom right after taking off his shoes.  
Expecting to see Alfred in bed, just like he was before they left, he was pleasantly surprised to find his brother working.

"Hey, Al", he greeted him as he got in, "how come you're doing math?" Slightly amazed, he watched his brother deal with a really long math problem in less than a minute.

"Oh, well, I had my moment of enlightment." Alfred chuckled a little, still looking like a total mess tired out by life, but he didn't give up. Especially after the conversation he had just minutes earlier.

"You talked to Arthur, didn't 'ya?"

"...Yup."

"I see the isolation policy is working out well for you." Matthew teasingly laughed, but all in good manner. "Kidding."

"Yes, well that's a total load of crap anyway. I thought my life is one big isolation policy already."

Alfred, surprisingly even for him, felt alright. Definitely not stable, certainly not cheerful, but that numbing feeling of sorrow and emptiness was suddenly replaced by Arthur's kind and loving words, and all he could feel was the Brit's presence inside of his heart. He even had the strength to joke about his current state of being, which hadn't happened in months already.

"Anyway, I actually brought you a little something from the store. Took me ten minutes to figure out how to get it through without dad noticing, but here." As he said those words, the younger brother dug a small item out of his pocket, holding it out in the palm of his hand for the other to take.

"It's so cute!" Alfred genuinely smiled, taking the little object out of Matthew's hand and giving it a closer look.  
It was a keychain - on one side it was painted as the Union Jack, and on the other side it had musical notes. "Thank you. It's perfect."

"Yes, well... I know you needed a cheer-up, and this is pretty small but... I'm glad you like it." Matthew shrugged his shoulders, loving to see his brother with an actual, wholehearted smile on his face. Alfred's happy moments became a rare occasion, and seeing him satisfied was wonderful. It made Matthew feel how there still might be hope for his older brother to find his old, cheerful, always friendly self - the confident Alfred Jones he knew all throughout his childhood. The boy who used to call himself 'the hero' and played piano without being in danger, the boy who made everyone's lives brighter just by his presence.

He was still there, inside.

They just needed to get him back before he completely breaks down.

And time was running out.


	23. Little Peace

A person can only take so much before they break. To some people, it might be days, weeks or months of heavy tension taking over their lives. To others, it could be years.  
And to Alfred Jones, it was four years of constant shouting, yelling, restrictions, orders, insults, abuse and shame for simply existing - and even if he thought he would last, there was a day when his mind and body reached the absolute limits. Nothing felt alright ever since.

Saturday, November 25th

What started off as a perfectly normal, casual and somewhat well-functioning day for the young American, turned out to be the worst day in his life, at least what he could recall from the past, and he didn't expect it to happen whatsoever.

Even though, with a slight bit of logic and listening to his brother, Alfred should have stayed alert that it could happen.

"Good morning", he greeted Matthew as he tiredly got up from bed, spotting the younger already busy with work at his desk. The smell of morning hot chocolate and tea lingered in the room, reaching him in no more or less than three seconds. He couldn't help but immediately take a sip from the cup which stood right next to his untouched pile of math problems, sighing at the pleasant, warm feeling which the drink quickly caused.

"Up already? I expected you to be out by noon", Matthew teased a little bit, spinning his chair around to face his sleepy brother who obviously looked drained. In fact, he was. Last night, he spent about three hours working on a History project about the Founding fathers of the United States, and he got to do it since only Arthur and him applied - but the teacher chose the 'only American in class' to present the lesson next time. Alfred was happy about it, and devoted all his time to work on it.

"I barely slept anyway. Too much on my mind." He replied quickly before heading to the bathroom for his morning routine.

Today, which Alfred didn't know yet, their father was not at home.

Right before he left, which was at about 7 AM, Matthew was in the kitchen which made him the only one present to hear the man's message. All he understood was 'I'm going for a meeting, I should be back somewhere around midnight'. A bit suspicious, since both boys had no idea what their father did for a living since they moved to London. In New York, he was an engineer. Now, his profession remained a mystery. When they asked about it, he wouldn't reply. So they just... Stopped asking.

"Oh, by the way, dad is out until midnight", Matthew informed his brother when the other came back into the room. "Got any plans?"

"In fact yes, I do." Alfred felt himself brighten up a little when he heard the news, a part of his mind already planning how to spend an anger-free saturday. "And I think you know what it is."

The younger American smirked, rolling his eyes with a knowing expression on his face. "Let me guess. You want to ask Arthur to come over?"

"Bingo."

"Alright, alright, just be careful. Just because dad said midnight doesn't mean that he can't be back earlier. Remember what happened last Saturday when we weren't careful enough. I don't want you to get hurt or anything."

Alfred waved his hand in dismiss, showing very little care towards the statement. "Yeah, we'll be fine." He said, stretching the last syllable to emphasize that, for the most part, he was confident that this would turn out well. "But first, I want to enjoy a stress-free Saturday morning with a nice cup of chocolate and the wonder which we call the internet." And with those words, he picked up his phone with one hand, sitting by the desk with the cup in the other, as if he didn't have a single care in the world.

Little did he realize, the day wouldn't end in such a peaceful manner.

\- - -

Arthur was spending a pleasant morning with his brothers in the room, casually ignoring the living shit out of Connor, Dylan and Liam and typing away e-mails on his laptop. In the background, he could hear the three of the younger brothers fight, laugh and attempt to sing, which brought a very enthusiastic, but positive atmosphere to the room. Everyone was energetic, happy and absolutely careless.

"Oi, give me back my mobile!"

"I will, for ten pounds!"

"I'll get Arthur on you, better give it back!"

"Well, I'll get Arthur and whoever the hell his boyfriend is!"

The older Brit was silently cackling at the bickering he had to listen to, and he couldn't help but blush just slightly once there was a mention of Alfred.  
He was completely out of the closet to his very accepting family, and didn't even hesitate or feel scared to tell his parents and brothers once he knew for sure. The Kirklands were liberal, modern and in no way closed-minded. If anything, his brothers absolutely loved making jokes about it, but all in a nice manner.  
On the other side, Alfred's father was quite conservative, even though he wasn't very religious, so the boy knew he would never be able to share such a secret with him.

"Excuse me, his name is Alfred", Arthur piped in the conversation, holding back a big amount of laughter.

"Right, him. I keep forgetting. Now help me out, Dylan still doesn't want to give the bloody mobile phone back!" Connor grasped Arthur's sleeve, almost managing to pull him out of the chair where he was just trying to peacefully sit.

Oh, it was going to be a long day.  
Though, he didn't mind it. His brothers were playful, but he had known them like that since the beginning, and the only times when he did push them away was before a big test, or on a day with a lot of work. But on a Saturday morning with nothing particularly special to do, he gladly accepted their play.

Until...

"Hold on, I think I have a message." Once a familiar, one second long sound could be heard from the boy's phone, he took two steps towards his desk and picked up the small device, receiving an unexpected text - from Alfred Jones.

My house is free all day, wanna come over?

"Is it Alfred?" The youngest brother, Liam, curiously asked.

"None of your business!" Arthur shot back, immediately feeling bad about it. "I-I mean yes, it's him."

Of course I do. I'll be there at 5, is that fine?

And less than a minute later, he got a positive response from the other.

Yes. Can't wait!

\- - -

The long awaited five in the afternoon soon arrived at the doorstep, allowing Alfred and Arthur to meet at the already visited, quiet apartment of the American boy. Matthew was in the shared bedroom, giving them all the privacy they want in the living room and kitchen. He was glad to do it, as long as his older brother could be happy for once with the one he loved.

The English boy showed up ten minutes late, but it wasn't like they counted minutes or anything. Wearing a dark blue hoodie with the words New York on it for obvious extra appeal to the other, he knocked on the door three times and waited for somebody - better say, Alfred - to open the door.

"Hey!" Alfred greeted happily, dressed in a Union Jack sweatshirt, unexpectedly matching with the other's New York one. "Nice jacket", he commented with a grin, letting the boy in and closing the door behind them.

"Yours too." Arthur smirked, stepping in just to look around once again. Nothing had changed since the last time he visited, but the place kept a strange feeling of tension over it, as if something bad was happening. The boy almost had a sixth sense about those kinds of things, but Alfred's home was just unexplainable to him.  
Though, he didn't mind. As long as the two of them could be together, the place didn't really matter to him. "So, what did you have in mind for us today?"

Alfred lead them into the living room, and he couldn't remove the constant smile from his face - every time he had an opportunity to spend time with Arthur, he took it without hesitation and loved every second of it. "I was thinking we could watch a movie. Matthew and I went grocery shopping after lunch, so we have a bunch of snacks, and I can make hot chocolate. I-I mean, if that's okay with you. We have coffee and tea as well, w-whatever you'd like--"

Once Arthur noticed that the other was utterly flustered and nervous, rambling on about unimportant things just like he did every time he was jittery, he couldn't help but laugh a little. To him, it was straight up adorable. "It's fine, Alfred. I'll just have some tea." He smiled softly, following the younger boy into the kitchen.

Today also marked the first day that Alfred actually didn't deliberately hurt himself or even wanted to do it, surprising himself that he could hold it out that long. The long sleeves of his dark hoodie successfully hid any evidence of his deeds, and he was glad it was almost winter - it would be very inconvenient and suspicious to others if he didn't want to wear a T-shirt.

"Oh, alright. I'll get to it now." He took out three different boxes of tea from the cupboard, showing them all to the Brit who just wordlessly pointed on the one which said mountain tea. A few weeks ago he would have never imagined himself actually making tea for Arthur.

"Which film are we watching tonight?"

"Whatever you choose, I'm good with anything. And our TV has this weird packet of free movies. Our dad has been addicted to it lately, neither of us even got a chance to touch the remote." Alfred laughed, but jokes aside - he didn't remember the last time he was allowed to actually relax in front of the television. All he knew was that it must had been years ago.

"It's film, Alfred." The Brit was an obvious tease, and ever since the two of them met, he loved making friendly jokes about the way the other spoke - the accent, words or phrases which differed from the English he was used to.

"If you're tryin' to make me speak like a Brit, you ain't suceedin'!" The American returned the gesture with a high amount of slang just on purpose. He didn't even usually speak like that.

"Stop this, right now!" Arthur tried to stay serious while threatening, but both boys just burst into laughter really soon, chatting their minutes away in the kitchen.

Later, they sat themselves each with their own cup on the couch, snuggling together to watch a movie. Arthur chose Monty Python and the Holy Grail, surprised how many movies before the 2000's were on the free list.

The warm drinks and the closeness between them made them both feel really comfortable, and the laughter they shared during the movie made it just... Perfect. Absolutely nothing could ruin the night for them.

Or so they thought.


	24. Time's Up

A bit of cuddling, a bit of laughter and a quick, stolen kiss - the American and the Brit were having so much fun together, and their time lost in their own world took their minds off the problems they would have to face later, which included school and work as number one.

"The film was hilarious!" Arthur stated excitedly as the credits slowly rolled on the television screen. "We should do these things more often. Watching a film with you is fantastic." He loved Alfred's puns and quips, crazy and humorous details which almost nobody notices, and all in all, they enjoyed it thoroughly.

Alfred couldn't remember when was the last time he had laughed that much, honestly and wholeheartedly, and actually had such a good and thrilling time with somebody. "Yeah, we definitely should. I wish my house would be available more often, but it seems like we're gonna have to settle for coming here once in a while."

"Of course. But you know, my place is always good to go. My parents wouldn't mind us."

"You know my dad isn't too fond of Matt and I going to our friends' places." Alfred responded without much thinking, only realizing after saying those words how bad of a light they painted his father in.

"I bet if you ask him enough, he'd let you." The Brit shrugged his shoulders. If his parents were strict, which was only sometimes, he would ask a lot of times until they finally gave in. Of course, with Alfred's father, that would absolutely never work.

"You try, you die. My motto." The other laughed a little, although that wasn't that far from the truth.

Unfortunately.

"Hey, I have an idea." Arthur suddenly broke their little conversation about strict parenting, a thought popping into his mind. "How about you play me a little something on piano?"

"If Matthew wouldn't mind us invading the room, I'd love to do it."

Without further hesitation, the two of them walked over to the room, knocking before entering out of nothing but politeness. Once they heard a 'you can come in' from the other side, they opened the door.  
It seemed like Matthew was working on a science project about static electricity, but as soon as he saw Alfred and Arthur he stopped what he was doing, turning over to them. "What's up, you two?"

"Uh, is it okay if we play a bit of piano here?" Alfred asked nicely, playing with the hem of his sleeves.

"Yeah, go ahead. I'm doing science out of boredom anyway, I'll switch to the kitchen." The younger boy whose blonde hair was almost entirely covering his eyes just shrugged, picking up the workbooks as he took his leave.

"Thanks."  
Alfred nodded in gratefulness, bringing Arthur over to the medium sized piano. He sat on the chair in front of it, cleaning the bits of dust off the keys gently - it's been a few days since he last played, mainly because of the lack of free time on his hands. "So what do you want to hear, Arthur?"

The said Brit had a thoughtful expression on his face for a few moments, reminding himself of some good songs he would love to hear Alfred's versions of. "Hm... How about Believe by Mumford and Sons? Do you know that one?"

With a non-verbal affirmation of the words, the American started playing. The song was very smooth and casual, quite fitting for a piano adaptation. He played it in the original B minor, adding a bit of spice to it with a couple of arpeggios, octaves and switching the chord progression in the chorus.  
Arthur loved it. In awe, he silently listened to every note, every beat of the song, astounded by the boy's talent.

"Do you like it?" Alfred asked once he was finished, turning over to the other.

"I love it! It sounds so amazing, you're amazing, a-and I'm rambling, aren't I?" Arthur felt his face turn a slightly darker shade, but a smile stayed on it nonetheless.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, but it's not half as good as what you'd do with it on the guitar, let's be honest." The younger shyly laughed, looking to the side instead of making eye contact.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're too good to even compete with!"

"Great, now you're making me flustered." Alfred rolled his eyes, grinning and blushing at the same time.

Out of all people he had met since his family moved from New York to England, Arthur was the only person who was always able to make him feel special, loved and a person worth living on this planet, even in his worst moments and during his most difficult times. It was confusing, quite strange at first until he realized that the feeling he held inside for the boy was, of course, love. And with a little encouragement from Matthew, now he was sitting right here, playing a song for the person who meant the world to him.

"I love you, Alfred. Don't ever forget that."

Hearing those words made him completely melt, his heart skipping a beat or two, his ocean blue eyes taking on a soft expression which clearly said how deeply he reciprocated those feelings.

"I love you too. So much." Alfred gently returned the kind gesture, slightly shaking as he looked down, still nervously fidgeting with the sleeves of his dark coloured sweatshirt. It was all very overwhelming to him, and he could feel his anxiety overtaking - breaths shallow, heartbeat quick, tension high - but Arthur realized that fairly quickly. It was almost the same for him, but he was obviously still a far more relaxed person during moments like these.

The Brit didn't waste any more of their precious time. Slowly and tenderly, he took Alfred by the hand, making the other stand up from the piano in a jittery motion, his eyes meeting two warm, inviting forest green ones which were filled with love. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, and this was certainly the best example.

"W-what are you doing?" Alfred had to ask, his voice turning a slightly higher pitch.

"Oh, nothing... Just want to show you how much I actually mean it." As he said it, Arthur brought the two of them closer to each other, much so their faces were only a couple of centimeters away. The closeness made them feel extremely warm and pleasant, and they couldn't help but think of only one possible thing to do next.

At first, it was slow.

Arthur gently leaned in and kissed Alfred's soft lips, making them both feel a tingle of passion the exact second that it happened. The American placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders, the other wrapping his arms around his waist. It was special, an irreplaceable, perfect, but such an intense feeling... After a longer moment, they pulled away and took a couple of shaky, shallow breaths, glancing at each other.

"Your lips taste like tea." Alfred muttered something along those lines in a shivery tone.

Unable to contain himself any longer, the English boy decided to take it a step further. Alfred could hear his heart racing, but he didn't even care anymore - that simple glance the two of them shared said everything. They were both thinking the same.

In the heat of the moment, their lips crashed once again, and soon they were almost out of the bedroom, stumbling back and almost falling on top of each other. Alfred couldn't sustain a small sound of pleasure escaping his throat, but if nothing, it added to the atmosphere. Through the door they didn't even notice was left open, the two boys soon found themselves in the hallway - the American was back against the wall and melting into the infinite warmth which the Brit offered.

Nothing could feel better than this. In both their minds, there was not an existing force in the universe which could ruin the evening for them.

Unfortunately, that wasn't true.

There's a reason why November 25th was not only the best, but the worst day of Alfred's life, and there was only one correct, reasonable explanation for it.

Whilst they shared a special kind of intimacy with a passionate kiss, a thing that neither of them had ever experienced until now, both Arthur and Alfred forgot about their surroundings.  
At this point, they didn't care where they were, all that mattered was each other.

But, that came with a big price.

The time was eight and fifteen minutes in the evening, certainly a good amount of time away from midnight, the official deadline of their night.  
Everything was silent in the house, only they had their spotlight, still in the hallway and lost in the moment, away from the real world and the pains and troubles that it brought.

Unexpectedly, there was a suspicious sound which nobody payed attention or even heard it - unlocking of the main entrance door. The keys rattled for full two seconds, before the door was opened.

Nobody noticed.

And once a person walked in through that same door, it was like Pandora's box was open and all hell would break through.

Alfred and Arthur heard a strange sound - maybe it was shoes tapping on the floor, maybe it was a coat being taken off - but it sure did disturb their moment.  
First and foremost, they broke from their moment of passion, looking around to face the piece of hell from the Pandora's box which awaited no one else but then.

Alfred's father was at the door.

"What the hell is going on?"

A loud voice just like thunder immediately fell upon them, startling not only the American, but the Brit as well.

Well, life, it was nice knowing you.

But it seems like it's time for me to go.


	25. Not Okay

"What the hell is going on?"

Alfred and Arthur were caught off guard, and even Matthew feared what would happen next, hearing it all from the living room. This certainly couldn't go well, and would probably result in shouting and tears.  
Or something even more than just that.

"Dad, I-I thought you were going to be home at midnight!" The older American had a frightened expression on, almost shaking from the sudden anxious feeling overtaking him which he didn't expect at all.  
He thought this night would be perfect, and that absolutely nothing in the universe could ruin it for the two of them...

But apparently he was wrong. Very wrong.

Arthur didn't know what would happen. He didn't expect anything more than just a little bit of yelling because Alfred broke the one rule of not inviting friends over, but on the other hand, his father did catch them kissing, and he had no idea what were his views on this. "I can leave if I've caused a problem. I apologize." He gently said, staying calm and making casual eye contact with the tall blonde man who he had never met before.

"Of all the things I could see! I can't believe this... Of all the fucking things, I walk in on my son kissing another boy! Alfred, I will not forget this. I can't forget this." His father was extremely furious, and he expressed that emotion well with not only his hand gestures and facial expressions, but also the sharp and angry tone he spoke in.

Alfred took a small step back, feeling as if his heart stopped and there was a knot tied in his stomach from the overwhelming panic. He could see his dad advancing towards him in two quick movements.

"You! Get out!" He shouted towards Arthur, who didn't know what to do in this kind of situation. Should he leave? Should he stay and defend Alfred? He shared a glance with the boy which clearly told him to go, for his own safety.  
A slight bit apprehensive, he backed away and walked over to the door, knowing all eyes were on him.

"How slow can you goddamn get?!"

After that sentence, Arthur decided to quickly exit the apartment - he was too scared and knew he probably wouldn't be able to help Alfred in the situation anyway.

But, he didn't leave completely. He realized that maybe, after all this time he had been thinking about what or who was the core of Alfred's sudden change in behavior, he would get the answer. One of his many suspects. He had made up so many distressing scenarios in his head...

So once he had closed the door behind himself, he didn't walk away from the house. Arthur stayed outside, taking out his phone and preparing to listen to whatever would happen. This could be serious, and if Alfred really needed help, he would be there to provide it.

But with all his heart and soul, he hoped that the boy he loved wouldn't be put in such a position.

Inside of the four walls, Alfred was facing absolute terror.

"What were you fucking thinking, Alfred?!"

The harsh words were accompanied by a hit which almost brought him to the ground because of its accuracy and heaviness, and all he could do was cry out in pain and hold on for dear life. "I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I swear, I'll never do it again!"

"You've disappointed me enough, you know that! For the past years, you've done nothing but mistakes! You know what? I've fucking had enough!" This time, the father didn't hold back any anger that was boiling inside of him, and all he wanted was to punish the other, thinking that he deserved it. So what else to do, but to hit the boy again and again?

Alfred couldn't breathe. It was too much, and it was too strong. A fist collided with his face, the sharp pain rushing through his entire body. He had no strength to fight back nor to escape. "Please, don't..." His shaky voice was close to silent, and he was on the verge of tears.

"I don't think so! You deserve it, understand? Now stop talking, you little piece of shit, before I slam both you and your piano to the wall!" He wasn't lying. In less than a couple of minutes, Alfred found himself back against the wall, and he caught a glance of Matthew - a sight after which he couldn't refrain from crying.

His little brother was in tears, clutching a couch pillow in his hand and trying not to look or hear, but everything was so real, so... Terrifying.

And Alfred only blamed himself for it.

Little did any of them realize, there was a British boy standing outside the door listening to everything that was going on with a different kind of heartache, and dialing a very important number on his phone which could save the boy from more pain.

Arthur was calling the police.

But of course, those services can only help momentarily, and certainly can't heal a broken mind, heart and body. For that, Alfred would need so much more time. Although right now, everything he wanted was to disappear from the face of earth.

He felt so small, and so vulnerable under the shadow of terror which his own father caused him, and a big part of him knew this would be the moment he broke down to the end. Already, he was on the floor, clutching tight to the carpet with his breath hitched, hands sweaty, eyes teary and no will to go on. Incredibly close to passing out, all he thought about was how nice it would be to just close his eyes and never open them again, never wake up again...

The father's voice was faint in the distance, both his vision and sound were blurry. He resembled a few words like 'hell', 'disappointment', 'worthless', 'mistake' and the phrase 'get up' which was said in a pretty rough tone.

To get up? As if that were going to happen. The lack of energy was devastating, and Alfred couldn't even move a muscle anymore.

And Arthur could feel it all on the inside.

With every scream in pain that the American made, the Brit's heart clenched, and he impatiently waited for the policemen to arrive. It had been five minutes since he made the call.

Come on, he can't last forever...

I can't do anything.

And I'm pretty sure the door locked behind me.

Fine. I'm scared. I'm scared to get in, I don't want to see it happen...

Out of all dark scenarios that he created and imagined in his head, this one was the worst, and he never wanted it to be true. Alfred didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve this the slightest.

So why did the universe make him pay?

Without him even noticing, a single tear rolled down Arthur's pale cheeks as he thought about what kind of hell Alfred must have been going through - and who knew for how long! This couldn't have been the first time, everything aligned perfectly and made sense.

About seven minutes after Arthur's brief call, two police cars with their sirens off swiftly parked in the driveway, four men in black and white uniforms walked out and ran towards Arthur, immediately understanding his fear just by seeing him from the distance.

"You're Arthur Kirkland?"

"Y-yes. My friend is inside, I-I don't know what to do--"

"Calm down. We'll do all what's in our power." The oldest looking of them stated, and glanced over the other three policemen. "Taylor, you stay with the boy. We're going in." And simply by breaking through the door, Alfred's situation was exposed to the services, and at first he didn't even realize.

"What, how--" The tall blonde turned around, extremely surprised by this arrival. "What are you doing here?!"

"We have received a call that somebody is being abused in this household." A tall policeman replied, soon getting the hold of Alfred's father. Of course, the man tried to fight back, but failed - he was much weaker than two men together. The third one went to help Alfred who was severely damaged and curled up on the floor, barely breathing and covered in his own blood and tears. For a few seconds, he didn't know what was going on, who was here and why someone was trying to take him by the hand, but with his lack of strength he could do nothing but give in and let the person pick him up from the ground.

Arthur and Matthew watched, each from their side, both equally terrified and mortified by everything which was happening in front of their eyes.

"There's another boy there, I think that's the brother." Once they finally managed to calm down Alfred's father from his anger and frustration at least a little, Matthew joined Arthur outside, and fearfully wondered whether his older brother would be okay after this.

Alfred, in this poor and broken state, almost couldn't walk, so he was helped by both of them as they headed to the police vehicles which stood parked in the driveway. The father was being taken away to one, while the three boys to the other car - it seemed like they had it perfectly planned out.

Air. I need air. I can barely breathe.

Where are we going? I... I can't really see...

I think Arthur is here with me. And Matthew.

Goodness, are they okay?!

And I think I'm going to faint.

"Alfred. Stay with us." A sharp, familiar tone in an English accent so close to him spoke, and he blinked a couple of times, trying to look around and understand the environment around.

With a bit of help, he got into the car, only then the realization hitting him - they were going to the police station.

His father was arrested.

That meant...

Oh my god.

Arthur knows. Everybody knows now... This is it. I can't handle all of this at once, I'm losing breath again...

"Alfred! Breathe! We're here with you, you'll be okay... You're not in danger anymore."

"B-but it hurts..." The older American mumbled barely coherently, instinctively leaning onto the warm Brit next to him for protection.

"I know it does, love. I know it does." Arthur whispered back, slowly taking the boy's hand and intertwining their fingers together.

The two policemen in the front seats couldn't help but smile a tiny bit, noticing the special affection between them.

"You'll be fine." The Brit kept comforting with gentle words.

"Arthur..." Alfred muttered drowsily, his body still lightly shaking.

"What is it?"

"I'm... Really not okay."


	26. Desperate

Contrary to what Arthur, Matthew and Alfred thought, they were not being taken to the police station like Alfred's father was. In fact, the car was driving in the direction of the hospital. Of course, that did not come as a surprise to any of them considering the American's current physical state of barely staying conscious, heavily breathing and shivering.

He had never felt this desperately bad in his entire life.

It was a quarter until nine in the evening, and the sun was long gone leaving only a cloudy night sky without a single star to be seen. The air was cold and damp, preparing for rain that would soon come. Everybody was at home, and the streets of London which now seemed so dark were empty, left in silence. Only two police cars were driving by, along with just two or three people passing by. It was all too soundless, to that level of discomfort.

Alfred's mind was boiling with questions, most of them about what would happen next.  
Matthew and he didn't have any other family members here who would gladly take them in. And they were certainly not coming back to live in the house of all the terrible memories they had experienced in the last four years. Where were they going to live? With whom?  
Their father was arrested, which meant that he was finally gone from their lives... But, what kind of story was going to be created about it in school? What would the other students and teachers think of him now? It was all surreal, but too true, and awfully overwhelming.  
His entire body was in severe pain, and he was still on the verge of passing out. Luckily, Arthur and Matthew constantly kept him in tact with the world around him as much as they could.

"We're here." The policeman who was driving the car stated once he parked, and soon they were all on their feet except Alfred - he needed extra help to walk and get out of the vehicle. "Come on, let's take him to the emergency room."

Wordlessly, they complied, helping the boy to the big door which resembled the entrance to the hospital's emergency room.

The place wasn't busy whatsoever, and Alfred was able to see the nurse very quickly - a young, blonde lady with a touch of a foreign accent who looked very concerned about his well-being. She gently took him inside, and the others stayed in the waiting room, all with worried expressions plastered on their faces.

The boy sat on a comfortable looking bed in the ordination, shaking slightly less than earlier but still in a terrible state, body full of painful bruises. Knowing he was going to be examined by the nurse made him very jittery, because the last thing he wanted was for somebody to discover his self-inflicted scars that spread all across his left arm.  
Right now, all he wanted was to go lock himself up in a bathroom and hurt himself so badly he wouldn't be able to move, the tingly feeling torturing him from somewhere deep within. But he had to sustain.

Without a single word said, the nurse bandaged the bruise on the left side on his face and, not even taking off his hoodie, covered the wounds on his shoulders which just made her heart clench on the inside - Alfred looked like a kind boy who didn't deserve such a thing happen to him.  
"There, you're all done." She softly said, fixing his crooked glasses which luckily weren't broken. "You will be fine."

Alfred was silently grateful that he didn't have to pull up his sleeves.

Even though all the injuries were covered, he still didn't exit the ordination, but received a suggestion to rather lie down for a minute so his anxiousness, nausea and dizziness could calm down a little. And that was exactly what he did.

While the American was resting, the nurse whose name was Luna Steilsson, a young Norwegian, warned those waiting in front of the room that Alfred was going to be fine, and that all he needed was a bit of time. Arthur and Matthew were extremely glad to hear that, but they were still all equally scared for the future of the Jones family who was broken, helpless and put in a really bad position.

What Alfred didn't know yet was that Arthur already called his parents over to tell them where he was and what was going on, so the two Kirklands immediately jumped into their car and drove away towards the hospital.

It was a situation worth waking up familiar faces for those who needed help the most.

Alice and John Kirkland, Arthur's parents, soon arrived at the emergency, meeting with their son, two policemen and another blonde boy unknown to them who introduced himself as, of course, Alfred's brother Matthew.  
Once they arrived, the policemen decided it was their time to leave since there was adult responsibility present, and they left the waiting room in no more than a minute.

"Where's the boy?" The mother asked after hugging it out with Arthur and making sure he was alright.

"In the ordination. The nurse said he'll need a minute."

"Oh, poor thing... I wish we could have helped him earlier." She sighed, sitting down on a chair next to her husband.

Arthur nodded to the words, looking down and thinking the same thing - he should have acted sooner, and could have told someone about his concerns about Alfred before such a thing happened. Now he was in a state of blaming himself for a big part of this.

"Mum, dad, where are Alfred and Matthew going to live now when their father's gone too?" He gently asked, a part of him wishing that the boys could come live at their place, even though that was highly unlikely - Arthur already shared a home with his mother, father, and three brothers. It would be a Full House situation for sure.

But on the other hand, he had a solution for later. He was almost eighteen years old, which meant that in April of next year he could move out, get his own place and bring the boys along. Still, it wasn't simple until then.

"Well... Our place is crowded, and I know you want them there but I think that's impossible--" Alice spoke up, but her accent and tone were gentle, she didn't want to upset anyone. Though, she got interrupted by Arthur's father pretty soon.

"I say we take them in."

"A-are you serious?" Matthew joined the conversation, wide eyed as he thought about being taken in by the Kirklands. They seemed like very kind and gentle people, certainly open minded and up for trying new things, which would be a completely different experience than with his father for the past four years.

"Of course! You deserve a place to live, at least for a while." The man was happy to do it, which was visible from the clear and honest tone of his voice.

Only a few minutes after the family started the conversation, Alfred tiredly and slowly walked out of the ordination, still being helped by the young Norwegian nurse just in case. He felt embarrassed, awkward, disappointed in himself and didn't know how to talk to Arthur or anyone else ever again. So he just stood there, anxiosuly playing with his sleeves which became a habit of his, and wondering what to say or whether to speak up or not.  
There were two people who didn't know sitting next to Arthur and Matthew, but he assumed they were the Brit's parents.

"H-hey", he muttered, averting his gaze towards the ground in shame. He looked like a total mess, and felt even worse.

"Oh, Alfred..." Arthur whispered, frowning at how the other seemed so lifeless and miserable. He got up from his seat and slowly approached the other, gently hugging him so he wouldn't hurt his sensitive spots and bruises.  
Surpised at the affection, Alfred accepted the embrace, but didn't know how to act on it. So he just stood there, close to crying.

Alfred knew that people would never look at him the same after what just happened, but all he wanted was for Arthur to stay by his side. He thought the Brit would be mad at him because he hid the secret for too long, but instead he was getting... A hug.  
That made him realize what a strong connection the two of them actually had, and all he could do was hold back a waterfall of tears that he held inside.

But apparently Arthur realized that.

"Cry it all out." He tenderly spoke, closing his eyes on a moment as he was engulfed by the warmth the two shared.

And with those words, Alfred couldn't hold it back anymore. Everything he had ever kept secret or bottled up inside came out right there, he began crying, his breath hitched in his throat a little and he wasn't able to stop it whatsoever.  
"I'm... I'm so sorry..." He whispered through choked back sobs that just got louder by each moment. "I should... I should have told you... But I-I was scared..."

"It's okay. You don't need to apologize."

It was a touching sight for the family as well - Matthew and Arthur's parents watched it happen in front of their eyes as they were left completely speechless.

The American was still in tears, not breathing properly and his words not so audible, but at least he was letting it all out. Months and months of pain, it was like a precipitate of ash on his soul that only now got to be cleaned up... A little. It would take Alfred years to become his old, cheerful self, and until then they would all help him get there.

"I'm so afraid..." He whispered, clutching tightly onto Arthur.  
Those words broke the English boy as well, but he had to stay strong. He had to do it for the one he loved the most.

"I'm here for you."


	27. Changed

Alfred needed time.

Time to let out every single bottled up emotion that had been keeping him awake at night for years, time to clear out his mind as much as he could, and to find all the broken, lost pieces of the core of his true personality. Right now, every part of that seemed impossible, and so far away. But Arthur knew that Alfred would find himself again. And he was going to be there to help him the best he could.

At the moment, Alfred, Matthew, Arthur and his parents were driving towards the Brit's house, both American brothers refusing to return to their own place immediately. The terrible memories were too fresh, and if nothing, the younger Jones brother was going to pick up some of their things after a day or two.

But now, all they needed was some peace.

Alice and John Kirkland decided that Alfred should take a break from school, a week or two or as much as he needed to rest, and the mother would help him with the things he didn't understand. She was, in fact, a very good mathematician, so helping with science subjects was not going to cause a problem.

"Thank you for letting us stay at your home", Matthew softly said as a sign of gratitude as they finally arrived at the place, slowly getting out of the car and helping his older brother stand. Alfred's dizziness calmed down, but he certainly didn't feel alright the slightest. He felt broken, useless and a waste of space on this planet, and still wanted to just... Die.  
A big part of him thought nothing would feel alright ever again.

"It's our pleasure, dear. You boys deserve a family." The English lady gently spoke, unlocking the entrance to the house and letting everyone else in first out of nothing but politeness.

Alfred was awfully quiet, and the people around him noticed that. Yet, they didn't say anything, since they all knew what was the cause of his sudden silence. Taking a quick look around the house, he walked into the living room which seemed giant compared to the one he was used to, and spotted three boys that he had never seen or met before. But, he immediately concluded they were Arthur's brothers. One looked Matthew's age, and the other two were definitely younger.

"Boys, this is Alfred, and this is Matthew. They are going to stay with us for some time." Arthur's father introduced the two Americans, who just shyly waved and stayed silent, the younger with a small smile on his face.

"Oh, so that's the Alfred that Artie's been going on about for ages now!" Connor, the oldest of the three spoke up, approaching Alfred with a wide grin.

Arthur's cheeks turned dusty shade of red at that comment, and he sent a sharp glare towards Connor which clearly said 'shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you'. But, he didn't vocalize his embarrassment.

"Yep, I'm that guy", Alfred responded with an almost silent chuckle, trying to smile for the boy but obviously failing.  
He didn't expect a warm welcome, but Arthur's brothers were inviting and kind, immediately trying to form some kind of connection with both Matthew and him.

But after everything that had happened today, he was extremely tired, wanted to avoid socializing and tried to carefully escape the Kirkland family surrounding him with greetings by excusing himself and heading to the bathroom.  
It was overwhelming - Matthew and he were practically without a permanent home now, they didn't have a mother nor a father, it was all he had feared of for a while crashing down at him at once - and he needed relief.

He looked around the clear white bathroom, surprised at how tidy it looked, but that wasn't why he was here in the first place. Instantly, Alfred began his search through the drawers for something small, something shiny, something sharp...  
The stinging feeling somewhere deep within wouldn't leave him alone as much as he tried not to pay attention to it, and he ached for releasing the pain which couldn't be let out in simple words.

Found it.

Once he was well equipped, there was no stopping. Rolling up one of his sleeves, almost silently hissing at the discomfort of all the scars that spread over his skin, he didn't wait any longer.

All it took was one split second as the blade cut the skin, and in that one specific moment, there was so much... Relief. Watching the blood trickle down was so sick, so satisfying... Alfred hated himself for doing it, he hated having to hide such a thing from the ones he loved, but once he'd done it he just couldn't stop.

"Alfred, what are you doing inside for so long, for god's sake?"

He heard Arthur's voice from outside of the door, making him panic on the spot, not knowing what to do. "D-don't come in yet!" He found out that he had forgotten to lock the door, which only now he realized was a really risky move.

"Alright, but be quick", the Brit simply replied in a casual tone.

There was just something about Alfred's voice that put him on edge - that little spark of hysteria, unexplainable fear - but he couldn't understand why. Oh, it was going to be difficult. Now that he knew what was making Alfred act not like himself all this time, he would have to be there and help him get back on his feet. Of course, Arthur was willing to help, but how exactly was he supposed to do it?

The American didn't even realize that he had been occupying the bathroom for more than ten minutes - he was lost in the haze, present with his body but not his mind.  
He could swear that he would never be able to get better again, and that everything would be irrecoverable, gone astray until the end of his life.

So once he was finished and finally managed to snap himself out of all the sorrow eating him from the inside, he cleaned out all evidence and pulled down the sleeve of his hoodie - luckily, it was dark blue and that little bit of blood was unnoticeable.

He was lightly trembling once again, taking a deep inhale and exhaling before exiting the bathroom. Arthur was waiting in the hallway, his facial expression showing how lost in thought he was, but when Alfred showed up he rapidly turned his head towards the boy, examining his current state with one quick glance. "Oh, you're finally out. Come here, I have to show you where you'll be sleeping and stuff. You know, you've never really been in this house before. And before you ask, I've already shown Matthew."

Alfred let Arthur lead him into the guest bedroom which was right across the one where all the brothers were sleeping in - it was smaller than the one he was used to. There were two beds in it, just enough for Matthew and him to sleep, and a big, white desk in the corner. The room seemed kind of abandoned, the Kirklands certainly didn't get guests staying over often.

"Allistor and I used to share this room, but since he left for university, I share a room with the others. My parents decided to turn this one into a guest room instead. Should have been my own, but I was stupid enough to give in to Connor's and Dylan's pleading to join them." Arthur laughed a little, speaking as he took out a pile of clothing from a wardrobe which stood left to the desk. "Here, have some spare clothes, at least for tonight. Matthew and I decided to go and grab some of the things from your place tomorrow."

"...Thanks." Alfred wasn't very vocal about his thoughts or opinions, and rather stayed mostly silent, examining even the smallest details about the room he would be staying in. He appreciated Arthur's help, and couldn't thank his family and him enough for letting them stay.

"You know, you don't have to be shy around my family. They're kind people, even though my brothers can be annoying little shits who tease all day." The Brit was hurt to see Alfred so quiet, and he wanted him to open up at least a little bit, even though he knew very well how difficult that was going to be.

With those words, Alfred just wanted to cry. He didn't want to act like this. From the bottom of his heart and soul, he wished to just be himself and not be in constant pain like he was.

The room was dark and awfully quiet, as evening had arrived long ago, and the light was off, there was just a faint glow coming from the hallway that lit up a small part of the area the two were standing in.

"Alfred...?" Arthur noticed the absence of the boy's mind, and instinctively came closer to offer some well needed comfort. "I know you must feel terrible right now, I know you are... But, I promise you, it won't be like this forever." Without hesitation, he hugged the hurting American, holding him tight and placing one gentle, quick kiss on his lips. "You'll be okay again."

"I-I don't know." Alfred responded shakily, pursing his lips so he wouldn't cry. Still, it didn't work, and a few tears escaped him without his consent.

"Just say it. Say everything that's bothering you. You can't keep so much pain inside, you know..."

But it wasn't that easy.

There was too much, too many thoughts and emotions and so little words to say them out loud. "I can't." That was the only thing he managed to say, inhaling deeply and clutching onto Arthur as he quickly lost breath, the overwhelming feeling of earlier happenings washing over him again and almost bringing him down to the floor, if there wasn't for the Brit who was ready to hold him. "I can't breathe."

It's all too much for him.

Alfred might be strong, but right now he's at his lowest, weakest point. And it's difficult to come back from such a thing.

He will never be the same again.


	28. Helpless

Alfred felt completely helpless.

This evening had been a total wreck for both Matthew and him, marking the first official day in which the two of them did not have a permanent place to live and a family. Of course, the Kirklands kindly took them in, but it would never be the same again.  
Their father was arrested, which meant he was gone from their lives - and as much as it seemed good not to be around such an aggressive person, it also meant that their family was completely broken and lost.

Stuck in the guest room of the Kirkland household, Alfred was utterly sleepless and all he was able to do included tossing and turning in bed, staring at a blank spot in the dark and trying to get out of an infinite spiral of deadly, sorrowful thoughts that were encircling his entire mind.

I'm lost.

The feeling was awfully overwhelming, and he felt like nothing would be okay again. With each second that passed, he wanted to disappear even more, to be swallowed by time and space, or to never wake up again.

I have absolutely no will to go on.

Everything is tiring.

I wish I could be brave enough to just end my life, but that would be selfish. Selfish to Arthur and Matthew, who at least care about me.

I hope they do.

Without them, I'm completely alone.

"Alfred, are you asleep yet?" Matthew's soft voice was almost soundless coming from the bed next to where Alfred was sleeping.  
Apparently, they were both bothered by their thoughts too much to fall asleep.

"Can't sleep", he responded in a mumble, turning around to face his brother in the dark. "You too?"

"I have too much on my mind..." The younger whispered, letting out a long exhale and sitting up a little bit so he could be in a more comfortable position.

Alfred shifted upwards, a shaky breath escaping him as he tried to hold back all his tears. "Okay, talk to me. But we gotta be quiet, the others are sleeping."  
His arm was in more stinging pain than usually - there was one deeper cut that he dared to make a bit too close to his wrist, which brought him momentary relief but came with the price of later discomfort. So now his thoughts weren't the only thing disturbing his sleep.

"Alright, alright... I'm just... Confused. Scared, I guess. I mean, what's going to happen to us now?" Matthew asked in a troubled voice. "I know tonight has been much harder on you but... I'm full of questions. I have the urge to write my thoughts down, but I don't have anything to write in here."

"I understand how you feel." Alfred replied, feeling even worse once he found out his brother was feeling almost the same.  
He wanted least Matthew to be okay, since that by itself meant the world to him. "Well... Since you can't write it, say it out loud. To me."

"You really think I have the heart to bother you with my problems when you have it difficult enough?"

"Matt", the older American began, sighing a bit after saying the first word, "you're my little brother. I want to hear what bothers you, and try to fix it. If I were on my death bed and you asked me to explain you absolutely anything you wanted to know, I'd stutter it out with my last breath. So please, just go ahead and say it."

Matthew was taken aback by his brother's words, a faint smile appearing in the corner of his lips. It was so kind to hear that, so touching... But he didn't want Alfred to suffer. "I... That's..." For a moment, he was speechless. "Thank you, Alfred."

"You don't need to thank me."

\- - -

The next morning, Alfred woke up after only a couple of hours of disturbed sleep. He didn't have the strength to get out of bed, so he decided to rather curl up with the blankets and just try to breathe, to calm down from everything that happened on the dreadful Saturday of November 25th.

Unfortunately, he wasn't able to stay in that somewhat comfortable position for long. Soon after he woke up, Arthur marched into the room without knocking or any sign that he was coming in, carrying a trey of something Alfred wasn't able to resemble without wearing his glasses. Being awfully startled by it, he gasped just slightly and quickly sat up on the bed, picking up the glasses from the bedside table. "W-what the--"

"Good morning to you too. I made you breakfast in bed." Arthur smiled a little bit, placing the trey with food on that same wooden table, next to the American's phone which stood there. As a warm welcome to the house, Arthur and his brothers decided to make breakfast for the Jones brothers. But, that didn't go exactly by plan. The Brit's first meal was burnt, but since Matthew was the kind of person to wake up early and help around the house, he found the family distressed in the kitchen and somehow wound up being the one cooking, cleaning and helping. So Arthur decided to take the breakfast over to the guest room for Alfred, knowing that the boy was most certainly too tired both emotionally and physically for getting up and doing different sorts of activities.

"Breakfast... In bed?" Alfred was perplexed for a moment, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "Is it Valentine's day yet?"  
Withouth question, he picked up the trey and fixed himself up so he was sat in a position from which he was able to eat easily. The toast looked quite nice, and was actually his favourite kind - with nothing but cheese. "Huh, I don't remember ever telling you what kind of toast I like."

"W-well, you did", Arthur blushed just slightly, lying to cover up the truth that it was Matthew who made it. "Anyway... How are you feeling?" Gently sitting next to the American, he softly asked the question. It was visible from only his voice how much he truly cared for the other's well-being.

Finding out about his secret broke Arthur in a way too, since he blamed himself for not trying to help earlier, and for letting it go thinking it was just stress or a phase that was bothering Alfred. Andf even if his mind created all those different back stories for the boy's life, his logic lead him to staying silent until something actually happened. And once it did happen, he realized it could have been too late.

"I'm fine", Alfred simply responded, biting a small piece of the food placed in front of him. He was in a loss of appetite, and had very little will to live. But once Arthur was next to him, there was a different kind of warmth filling in the room.

"Really? You're still going with the whole 'I'm fine' thing even after what went on yesterday?" The English boy furrowed his eyebrows with an annoyed frown on. He didn't want Alfred to suffer by keeping all his emotions inside.

"I'm not lying. Seriously, everything's alright. I'm just... Very grateful you took Matthew and me in. That means so much to me... I'll never be able to repay you."

"Repay? Oh, bollocks. You being here alive is the best thing that could happen. Now we just have to find a way to make you happy again and everything will be wonderful. Okay?"

The American didn't respond immediately. With a lost haze in his eyes, he looked somewhere in the distance and pursed his lips together, a small and shaky breath escaping him as he thought about how thankful he really was for having such a wonderful person like Arthur in his life.  
"T-thank you." His voice was almost a faint whisper, and Arthur couldn't help but hug him gently, wanting him to never feel sad again.

He knew that was impossible. It was a long way to recovery, but he had faith in Alfred.

They would get there by helping each other and being there for one another when that was needed the most - after all, when Alfred was around the other, the urge to hurt himself would always shrink. One day, he wouldn't have it at all. The four years he had spent under his father's rule would be forgotten, and he would be able to start anew, with a life so amazing he'd be glad to live it.

But until then, he was going to try and stay alive.

For Arthur.


	29. Lost, Gone, Broken

Alfred felt completely helpless.

This evening had been a total wreck for both Matthew and him, marking the first official day in which the two of them did not have a permanent place to live and a family. Of course, the Kirklands kindly took them in, but it would never be the same again.  
Their father was arrested, which meant he was gone from their lives - and as much as it seemed good not to be around such an aggressive person, it also meant that their family was completely broken and lost.

Stuck in the guest room of the Kirkland household, Alfred was utterly sleepless and all he was able to do included tossing and turning in bed, staring at a blank spot in the dark and trying to get out of an infinite spiral of deadly, sorrowful thoughts that were encircling his entire mind.

I'm lost.

The feeling was awfully overwhelming, and he felt like nothing would be okay again. With each second that passed, he wanted to disappear even more, to be swallowed by time and space, or to never wake up again.

I have absolutely no will to go on.

Everything is tiring.

I wish I could be brave enough to just end my life, but that would be selfish. Selfish to Arthur and Matthew, who at least care about me.

I hope they do.

Without them, I'm completely alone.

"Alfred, are you asleep yet?" Matthew's soft voice was almost soundless coming from the bed next to where Alfred was sleeping.  
Apparently, they were both bothered by their thoughts too much to fall asleep.

"Can't sleep", he responded in a mumble, turning around to face his brother in the dark. "You too?"

"I have too much on my mind..." The younger whispered, letting out a long exhale and sitting up a little bit so he could be in a more comfortable position.

Alfred shifted upwards, a shaky breath escaping him as he tried to hold back all his tears. "Okay, talk to me. But we gotta be quiet, the others are sleeping."  
His arm was in more stinging pain than usually - there was one deeper cut that he dared to make a bit too close to his wrist, which brought him momentary relief but came with the price of later discomfort. So now his thoughts weren't the only thing disturbing his sleep.

"Alright, alright... I'm just... Confused. Scared, I guess. I mean, what's going to happen to us now?" Matthew asked in a troubled voice. "I know tonight has been much harder on you but... I'm full of questions. I have the urge to write my thoughts down, but I don't have anything to write in here."

"I understand how you feel." Alfred replied, feeling even worse once he found out his brother was feeling almost the same.  
He wanted least Matthew to be okay, since that by itself meant the world to him. "Well... Since you can't write it, say it out loud. To me."

"You really think I have the heart to bother you with my problems when you have it difficult enough?"

"Matt", the older American began, sighing a bit after saying the first word, "you're my little brother. I want to hear what bothers you, and try to fix it. If I were on my death bed and you asked me to explain you absolutely anything you wanted to know, I'd stutter it out with my last breath. So please, just go ahead and say it."

Matthew was taken aback by his brother's words, a faint smile appearing in the corner of his lips. It was so kind to hear that, so touching... But he didn't want Alfred to suffer. "I... That's..." For a moment, he was speechless. "Thank you, Alfred."

"You don't need to thank me."

\- - -

The next morning, Alfred woke up after only a couple of hours of disturbed sleep. He didn't have the strength to get out of bed, so he decided to rather curl up with the blankets and just try to breathe, to calm down from everything that happened on the dreadful Saturday of November 25th.

Unfortunately, he wasn't able to stay in that somewhat comfortable position for long. Soon after he woke up, Arthur marched into the room without knocking or any sign that he was coming in, carrying a trey of something Alfred wasn't able to resemble without wearing his glasses. Being awfully startled by it, he gasped just slightly and quickly sat up on the bed, picking up the glasses from the bedside table. "W-what the--"

"Good morning to you too. I made you breakfast in bed." Arthur smiled a little bit, placing the trey with food on that same wooden table, next to the American's phone which stood there. As a warm welcome to the house, Arthur and his brothers decided to make breakfast for the Jones brothers. But, that didn't go exactly by plan. The Brit's first meal was burnt, but since Matthew was the kind of person to wake up early and help around the house, he found the family distressed in the kitchen and somehow wound up being the one cooking, cleaning and helping. So Arthur decided to take the breakfast over to the guest room for Alfred, knowing that the boy was most certainly too tired both emotionally and physically for getting up and doing different sorts of activities.

"Breakfast... In bed?" Alfred was perplexed for a moment, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "Is it Valentine's day yet?"  
Withouth question, he picked up the trey and fixed himself up so he was sat in a position from which he was able to eat easily. The toast looked quite nice, and was actually his favourite kind - with nothing but cheese. "Huh, I don't remember ever telling you what kind of toast I like."

"W-well, you did", Arthur blushed just slightly, lying to cover up the truth that it was Matthew who made it. "Anyway... How are you feeling?" Gently sitting next to the American, he softly asked the question. It was visible from only his voice how much he truly cared for the other's well-being.

Finding out about his secret broke Arthur in a way too, since he blamed himself for not trying to help earlier, and for letting it go thinking it was just stress or a phase that was bothering Alfred. Andf even if his mind created all those different back stories for the boy's life, his logic lead him to staying silent until something actually happened. And once it did happen, he realized it could have been too late.

"I'm fine", Alfred simply responded, biting a small piece of the food placed in front of him. He was in a loss of appetite, and had very little will to live. But once Arthur was next to him, there was a different kind of warmth filling in the room.

"Really? You're still going with the whole 'I'm fine' thing even after what went on yesterday?" The English boy furrowed his eyebrows with an annoyed frown on. He didn't want Alfred to suffer by keeping all his emotions inside.

"I'm not lying. Seriously, everything's alright. I'm just... Very grateful you took Matthew and me in. That means so much to me... I'll never be able to repay you."

"Repay? Oh, bollocks. You being here alive is the best thing that could happen. Now we just have to find a way to make you happy again and everything will be wonderful. Okay?"

The American didn't respond immediately. With a lost haze in his eyes, he looked somewhere in the distance and pursed his lips together, a small and shaky breath escaping him as he thought about how thankful he really was for having such a wonderful person like Arthur in his life.  
"T-thank you." His voice was almost a faint whisper, and Arthur couldn't help but hug him gently, wanting him to never feel sad again.

He knew that was impossible. It was a long way to recovery, but he had faith in Alfred.

They would get there by helping each other and being there for one another when that was needed the most - after all, when Alfred was around the other, the urge to hurt himself would always shrink. One day, he wouldn't have it at all. The four years he had spent under his father's rule would be forgotten, and he would be able to start anew, with a life so amazing he'd be glad to live it.

But until then, he was going to try and stay alive.

For Arthur.


	30. Secrets

"Goodness gracious, this piano is actually really heavy."

Arthur and Matthew, along with the Brit's father, finally took all essential items from the brothers' house with them, and were now carrying them to the car - which also included Alfred's electric piano that they were painfully trying to place over the seats and to the trunk. It barely fit, but after some time they did it with a long exhale out of pure relief.

"I agree with you on that one", Matthew nodded and sat himself in the back seat next to the instrument which took away almost all the space of the vehicle.

"So, what do we do about Alfred? Should I talk to him about the thing we just read or do I just let it be? Maybe he would appreciate a conversation." Arthur asked as the first thing he did after getting in the car and closing the door. He was still extremely worried about that songbook he found, not daring to read another page of it. It was like finding dark pages of someone's diary, but Alfred's thoughts were all in the shape of songs. Creative, at least.

"Talk to him. You should do it. I think he wouldn't want to tell anything to Matthew because he's younger and Alfred doesn't want to hurt him with the terrible truth. But you on the other hand... Go for it." His father gave an immediate response. A good one, too.  
Arthur decided that he really would do it as advised.

Alfred is in need of help. Immediately, before he does something really stupid.

Like hurting himself.

Or worse.

"I... I'll do that. Thanks for the advice, dad." The Brit let out a long breath, looking through the car window and examining the moody English weather again. Why did it always have to be cloudy? Arthur could swear he hadn't seen the sun in years.

Matthew stayed silent in the back seat, surrounded by his own troubled thoughts.  
Was there really something that terrible his older brother wouldn't tell him about himself? He prayed to whatever god he didn't believe in that Alfred would be fine, and that he didn't do such things to himself like it was stated in the last verse of the song.  
To him, it was only important that they got away from dad. But on the other side, the younger boy wasn't in such a devastatingly bad mental state as Alfred - in general, he was fine. Lately just stressed about the situation they were in, worried about Alfred, thinking about school stuff he needed to finish and nothing else that had the ability to bring him down. Especially now. He had to stay strong for his brother the best he could do that.

In a couple of minutes only, the car parked in the driveway in front of the Kirkland family house, Arthur's father stepping out before the two boys. "First, bring in the piano. Then we'll get the other things." He ordered, helping the two who just began working on taking out the big instrument from the car without dropping it.

"I think Alfred will be glad we brought this thing here." Arthur smiled lightly at the thought of him being happy on at least a second, and he himself couldn't wait to hear Alfred play.

But first, they needed to have a very, very serious conversation.

\- - -

Alfred was laying down on the guest room bed, and at first sight looked really peaceful. On the inside, he was extremely troubled, both physically and mentally tired out by life.  
He spent twenty minutes in the bathroom, drowning the miserable feelings in his own blood and tears, deep down feeling thankful that Arthur's mother Alice didn't try to unlock the door and get him out, but instead thought that he just needed to cry it out by himself.

Little did any of them realize, it was more than simple tears.

His breathing was shallow and there was obvious tension surrounding him, and all he could do was lay and stare at the ceiling aimlessly, the numbing pain in his arm taking his mind of other things at least on a minute. He wasn't crying, no, but there was a worse feeling clouding his entire mind, difficult to describe in words...

His thoughts were irrational, borderline delirious and insane, all focusing on only one thing - disappearing from this world.

I used to care so much. Things used to matter to me.

Less than a month ago, despite my sadness, I tried to work and do my best. Seems like my best just isn't enough.

I wanted to be a musician. Maybe that way my mother would be proud of me and I could do what I love.

But what was I even thinking?

She's dead! My mother is dead, and she cannot ever be proud of my music.

She's dead. And I might just join her soon.

Perhaps I'll spill all my blood cut by cut until I just vanish into thin air.

I wish there was a spell that could erase a person from existence entirely.

My dad is right. I'm just... Useless. Stupid. Annoying. A waste of space.

The last thought made him break completely, and he couldn't help but silently cry, burying his face in the pillow and curling up to the blanket. There was just so much pain in store for him to last for years, and it was just a matter of time when the last moment of his remaining, small bit of sanity would simply disappear.

The three Kirkland brothers felt extremely guilty for asking such probing, sensitive questions that broke the boy down, and as advised by their mother, they didn't go an apologize to Alfred immediately but instead let him recover first.

Soon enough, a loud ring echoed through the house reaching Alice's ears, and she immediately ran over to the door to open them, awaiting her husband, son and Matthew. Exactly the people who were at the doorstep, carrying waht seemed to be an electric piano.  
"Oh, come in, come in", she quickly said, closing the entrance door after the three walked in with the heavy instrument, swiftly placing it on the long couch that nobody was sitting on at the moment.

"We have more things in the car." Arthur stated, sighing and biting back a yawn. This was not the time for being tired, it was time to help.

"Oh, that's alright, Arthur, I'll go get the school books and stuff." Matthew offered himself, and the help was gladly accepted from both the English boy and his father.

Just... That meant he needed to go talk to Alfred about earlier found things right away... And he felt as if he wasn't ready.

But with only a slight bit of hesitation that he didn't show on the outside, he made his quick way to the guest room - or should he rather say, Alfred's and Matthew's room - and gently opened the door.  
Once entering, he saw the sight he last wanted to see.

Alfred was in tears.

It was obvious he was crying by the painful sounds coming from the bed, but as soon as Arthur got in, Alfred slowly turned around to face him, wiping his face with his sleeves a bit and taking a shaky breath. He didn't say a single word, didn't know what to say...

"Alfred, what's wrong?"

Oh, how he didn't want to hear that question. If only he could avoid it somehow. But now he found himself staring at Arthur wordlessly, his body present but his mind somewhere else, gaze focused on something unknown and invisible in the distance. "N-nothing." He muttered, stumbling across the syllables, unable to form a proper sentence.

"Listen... We need to talk about something very serious. I'm sorry, but we just... Have to." The Brit sat on the other side of the bed and shifted closer to Alfred after taking off his shoes in two second long movements, softly taking the boy's hand into his.

The American was not in the mood for serious conversations, but he was only able to listen, trying to lose himself in the warmth which he shared with Arthur.

"While we were at your place... I found something."

Oh, no. Oh my god, no. What did he find?  
Please don't let it be--

"Your songbook." The Brit spoke with caution, scared to say the wrong thing to Alfred who looked so broken - hair messy, eyes tired and red from crying, body slightly shaking.

I'm in trouble, aren't I?

I am such a goddamn idiot! Why didn't I hide that fucking thing a little bit better?

"O-oh."

Immediately, the tension in the air got much quicker, and Alfred clenched Arthur's hand a little bit too tightly, making the boy flinch a little, but he didn't complain with words.

"I only read one song, a-and it got me extremely worried..." He continued, taking just one deep breath before saying the next line. "Are you hurting yourself, Alfred?"

Why? Why did he have to ask that?! Why can't I just fucking die already?

I'm just a burden. I make everyone worried, instead of happy.

"Uh... N-no."

"That doesn't sound convincing to me. Alfred, you can tell me anything! But I don't want you doing things like that to yourself, you don't deserve it. I know it's difficult, b-but you need help. I'm here to help." Arthur's voice was soft and caring, and his green eyes glistened with worry as they met two lifeless blue ones that once used to be so shiny and bright, so full of life. "You can tell me anything." He repeated.

Yet the American was far too scared and ashamed of himself to confess. "It's just a song." He whispered almost incoherently, looking down and not allowing himself to make eye contact.

"Yes, just a song, but I'm so bloody worried! I-if it's really how you feel, just say it. It helps to say things out loud, you know... Don't be embarrassed to say."

Alfred didn't reply, but continued his mindless game of staring at his hands and absently playing with his sleeves.

"I will ask one more time. Alfred Jones...Do you deliberately hurt yourself?"

"...Yes."


	31. Scars

"Alfred Jones...Do you deliberately hurt yourself?"

"...Yes."

After the confession almost inaudibly escaped Alfred's mouth, at first not even realizing that he had said it, heavy silence fell upon the two boys and left Arthur speechless, his face going pale and breath turning shallow. "I-I can't believe this." He whispered in a shaky tone and gently took Alfred by both of his hands. "Show me."

Finding out that the one he loved actually did hurt himself purposefully made his heart shatter inside, but he had to remain strong. For Alfred. Even if he was close to doing it, he didn't cry.

"I can't do that." The American softly replied, fear visible in his teary eyes as he looked away. He felt so ashamed of himself, thinking that he was a genuinely terrible person who really didn't deserve a place to live or someone so kind as Arthur. The world was crumbling before his eyes, and all he could do was watch in pain. Watch as it fell on top of him and made him carry its weight.

"Alfred." Arthur's voice was stern and demanding, but with a hidden hint of worry and care.

Wordlessly, in a trembling and hesitating motion, Alfred pulled up the sleeve on his left arm, revealing what it seemed like dozens of perfectly lined up scars spread all across his sensitive skin, one particularly deep cut next to a bruise. The Brit couldn't help but let out a little gasp at the horrifying sight, not knowing what to say about it.

The boy he thought was happy for such a long time was... Doing this to himself? "H-how long?" He asked, catching a glance of Alfred's frightened, disappointed expression he couldn't quite read the feelings from.

"O-only a week or so." He got the reply quicker than expected.

So many scars in only one week?

Then what would he do to himself if it was a year?

I don't even want to think about that.

"Why?" By now, Arthur couldn't hold back crying, the overwhelming feeling taking over, and he embraced Alfred in a tight hug as tears softly rolled down his face. "Why would you do that?"

Alfred didn't know how to properly answer, since he himself didn't really understand. He felt sick for doing it, and with each cut hated himself more and more, but he just physically couldn't stop. The numbing pain he created had become an addiction, like a drug in which he drowned his misery, and in his mind, he deserved it all. Every single self-inflicted scar.  
"I'm worthless..." He whispered, burying his face in Arthur's shoulder and accepting the embrace.

But hearing that hurt Arthur's heart even more. "Please don't say that." He spoke up, still tightly holding the other boy, afraid that if he let go, he'd lose him forever. "You're worth so much more than you think."

Oh, if only Alfred had the ability to believe those words.

Being surrounded with words like useless, stupid, brainless, worthless, idiotic, mistake or many worse ones directed at him for four years made him think that it was true, and it would be reallly difficult getting him back to a positive mindset again. It might take years for that.

"Don't lie to me, Arthur", Alfred coldly replied, but with sadness so obvious in the sentence said. "We both know m-my father is right about me..."

"No! No, he is not! And I know you won't believe me for a very long time, but Alfred, you're a wonderful person! The best one I know, and trust me, I have met a lot of people throughout life. You're talented, beautiful, kind and simply perfect to me. I-it hurts me so, so badly when you say things like these about yourself..." The tone of his voice got louder, and the family in the other room was most definitely able to hear him. But he didn't notice. "I don't know how I'd cope if I lost you."

So he hugged him tighter.

"I love you, Alfred Jones, and don't you dare ever do something stupid to yourself ever again. Now let's get these scars all nice and covered up. Come with me." Once he inwardly calmed himself down from tears, Arthur's rational, logical side kicked in and he knew they needed to head to the bathroom to wrap those wounds up.

And hide all sharp things from the entire house when Alfred wasn't looking.

The American first didn't know how to react, but before he could even say anything he was pulled off the bed in a quick movement, letting out a small hiss from pain. Nonetheless, he decided that the only thing he could do was silently follow Arthur to the bathroom, so that was exactly what he did.

Arthur's parents and Matthew were in the living room, concerned looks plastered on all of their faces as the two boys walked through and made their way to the bathroom. Neither of them said a single word.

Once Alfred and Arthur reached their desired place, the Brit locked the door behind them and quickly began searching through the drawers for something to cover those damned scars.

"Y-you really don't have to do this--" the American said weakly, but was interrupted immediately.

"Yes, I do. And you're going to promise me that you will never hurt yourself again."

Once he found the needed items - some tape, gauze and scissors - Arthur gently took Alfred's arm and pulled up the dark blue sleeve once again, trying not to flinch or look away. He was skilled, so wrapping the gauze didn't take more than two minutes. Alfred soon ended up with his arm fully and tightly covered, so he wouldn't be able to add any fresh wounds to the ones already existing.

"T-thanks." He stuttered out, not knowing how to show exactly how grateful he was.

But he knew he wouldn't be able to stop just like that. It was too big of an addiction.

"Promise me." Arthur demanded, his green eyes almost glaring the other boy down.

"I... I can't promise that." Alfred looked down in shame, covering his freshly bandaged arm by pulling down the sleeve. Oh, it was so impossible to stop once he had started.

The English boy understood. He had read too much about it to think that Alfred would just magically be able to stop. There is a thing such as relapsing, but he dearly hoped that it wouldn't happen. "Then at least try for a few days. For me."

"I can try", he whispered, averting his glaze back to Arthur whose face was incredibly pale and eyes extremely stressed and sleepless. Just like he was. "For you, I will try..."

"Thank you, Alfred."

Arthur was ready to do anything, go over the limits and do whatever it takes to make Alfred, his Alfred feel happy again.  
It would take time. But he knew that the two of them were going to succeed.

So without hesitation, the Brit leaned in and stole a small kiss from the other boy, quickly getting the hold of his soft and gentle hands once again.  
Alfred felt blood rush to his face, making his cheeks turn a dusty red as he kissed back tenderly and let Arthur take over.

After all they had went through today, they both needed that special kind of affection which brought them such relief.  
Melting in the kiss, the two boys stayed like that for a longer moment before pulling away, stealing a short glance at each other.

"And remember... Whenever you get the urge to hurt yourself, instead of doing it, tell me. There are ways to prevent it from happening, you know? Even if it feels like there aren't." Arthur softly spoke to the flustered boy whose emotions were, at this point, just a complete mix impossible to read from his facial expressions. "Do you understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Good. That's good. I know you can do it."

Alfred managed to force on a weak, small smile for a short moment, but it disappeared almost immediately as he looked down at the floor, body anxiously shaking - all of this was really too much for him. "I'm sorry, Arthur."

"What are you apologizing for?" The said boy asked, still trying to be as gentle as possible, since that was what Alfred needed. Someone caring, loving and someone who would help him get his old self back.

"For making you worry about me too much. I-I didn't want you to worry..."

"Alfred", Arthur began, still holding the other close, "don't apologize. You don't need to do that."

He's constantly afraid that he's a burden to us all.

His anxious self overtook, and he can't think rationally at all anymore.

All his mind tells him is that he is doing things wrong.

His father broke him completely.

"Arthur? You seem... Lost in thought." Alfred's familiar voice snapped him out of trance, and he quickly glanced at the boy again.

"Sorry. I was just thinking about something. But it doesn't matter." Arthur chuckled airily, shaking his head at how he managed to space out so quickly. "Anyway... Matthew and I brought your piano over to the living room so... You can play. My family and I want to hear you play as well."

"Really? You brought my piano?"

That excited voice. It lasted only a split second, but it would be carved in Arthur's memory forever.

Because this was the first time in who knew how long that he saw Alfred smile without shame and shyness, but actual excitement.

He wanted to see that smile forever.


	32. Forever isn't Enough

And so he played.

From Chopin to Schubert, from Beethoven to Czerny and all the way over to the cold northern lands with Grieg, Alfred enjoyed every second of playing the piano in the living room of the Kirkland household, having what it seemed to be a small concert for the family in which he showed them what he was able to do with a simple electric keyboard. He melted into the music, and for a split second forgot about all the tragedy. His mind just created a whole different, colourful world on the inside, making him get lost in its sound. Once he finished, the boy had an honest smile on his face, along with a few tears rolling down his cheeks just from the thought that in this exact moment, the people around him all appreciated and liked his playing, no one was going to punish him for it with words or violence, and he could finally, for at least one second, be proud of it.

"That was... Incredible! Alfred, you're so talented!" Alice Kirkland was the first to comment, delighted by his performance. Despite everything that was happening at the moment, the sound of music brought light to the world, and they were grateful for Alfred possessing such talent.

"Yes, indeed. This was one of the best things I've heard, I must admit." The father smiled gently, feeling a bit proud of Alfred, which kind of confused him. The Jones brothers weren't his sons, but it all seemed like they were one big family.

The American was incredibly flustered at the remarks and comments he had gotten, making him just shyly smile back and look down, not knowing what to do in moments like these.  
In the past four years, he didn't really have good experiences with playing piano at home. But now, he felt as if his music wasn't so worthless.  
Sure, the anxious and greater part of him kept telling him how they Kirklands are all lying, and how no one enjoyed to hear him play, but he tried his best to focus on that smaller part of him which told him how he should truly be proud of himself for this not so small achievement.

But the best part was seeing Arthur and Matthew happy.

Oh, it seemed like life with a bunch of crazy Brits for a while wouldn't be so bad after all.

\- - -

The next morning

"Oh for god's sake, am I the only one around here who wakes up early...?"  
Matthew sighed and muttered the words under his breath as he walked into the unfamiliar kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He glanced at the clock which was hanging on the wall next to the cupboards. Six in the morning.

Everyone was asleep. Of course, he understood Alfred's sleepiness, but he expected at least someone to be awake. Arthur, his parents, one of the brothers... But no. All his life he was the one to wake up first, why would that suddenly stop now?

But after searching through the cabinets for something that could ease his morning, he found some hot chocolate ingrediends and quickly made himself a cup. Sitting by the table, the boy pulled out his phone and aimlessly scrolled through the news bar as he drank the warm beverage.

Six thirty.

All he could hear was snoring from the shared room of Arthur and his brothers. At this point, he prepared coffee for the adults, letting it heat up for when they're awake, and got started on the breakfast toast.  
This was his second day in this house, and also the second time he used their new toaster which worked so much better than the one he had at his place.

Seven.

Unexpectedly, Matthew was snapped out of his thoughts by footsteps from the back, and once he whipped his head around to see who was coming, he spotted his tired brother drowsily walking over to the table.

"Morning", Alfred mumbled tiredly.

"Finally someone", the younger rolled his eyes, placing the heated up toast in front of Alfred. "Here, eat this. Also, why are you awake anyway? You're not going to school for the whole week. You should have just turned around and continued sleeping."

"...Oh. You're right." Feeling stupid for forgetting such a thing as being told he wouldn't take class for the five following days, Alfred sighed a little and regretted his decision to get up. He didn't touch the food, simply because he didn't feel like eating whatsoever.

Matthew was extremely worried about his older brother, and the concern doubled up after what Arthur and he read yesterday from the songbook that they found in the boy's desk drawer. But, he kept it to himself, holding onto the last remaining string of hope that his brother would be okay.

"Are you feeling alright this morning?" He couldn't help but ask anyway.

"Better." Alfred replied, shrugging his shoulders, but not making direct eye contact.

But Matthew knew that he was lying.

\- - -

That Monday morning started off for Arthur in a strange, unforeseen way, and the reason to that was, simply put - school.  
After meeting up with Elizabeta and Gilbert at the bus station, the three of them along with Matthew made their way to the big, dreadful white building where they would have to spend the next seven or eight hours.

Arthur and Matthew promised each other and Alfred that they wouldn't tell anyone about the things that had been happening since Saturday, not even their closest friends. And they were completely sure that their little plan would work out and no one would find out.

But, they had all forgotten about the one, small detail they should have thought about before anything like this could happen.

Alfred stayed home from school, and Arthur's mother was the one to call the class teacher and tell her why the boy was going to be absent for the next couple of days. Yet instead of making a reasonable excuse like having a cold or flu - it was late autumn after all - the woman chatted away about absolutely everything that she knew, making not only the class teacher worried, but the entirety of year eleven, and perhaps even the whole school.

Rumour spreads like wildfire, and once the class teacher knew about what happened to Alfred, all the teachers knew in less than ten minutes. And once the teachers knew, so did the students. In no less than three class periods, Alfred's home situation became the running topic and the current breaking news situation.

And of course, everyone perceives the story in their own way.

"Did you hear about Jones? That guy in year eleven?"

"Yeah, I heard that his dad beat him up or something so he's not at school. Why?"

"Well I wonder what he had to do to be punished like that."

"I bet all my money that his dad found him with a boy. That stuff never gets old, I'm telling you!"

The story grew bigger over time, finding parallels and made up situations that never even happened and would never happen at all. Some students created jokes about it, and the others started a rumour how Alfred tried to end his life, but Arthur found him right before and saved him. There were alternative versions in which Alfred and Arthur got together, which was not false whatsoever, but the Brit was extremely disturbed with being interrogated by every second girl about his and Alfred's relationship problems at every single five minute break. The worst of all, the majority of students was not accepting, which placed Arthur in some trouble as well. Luckily he was strong and tall, so everyone was a bit too scared to hurt him physically.

Thankfully, he had some free time to himself after being let out of the classroom once he finished on his English essay.

What is going on? Who in the world told all these people about what happened?

I sure didn't. And I know Matthew keeps his mouth zipped up like no one. So who in this bloody galaxy started all of this?

We're screwed. Alfred's going to face some deep trouble once he comes back to school.

"Arthur, what the actual fuck?!" He suddenly heard a voice from the back, swiftly turning around to face the person who it belonged to.

"E-elizabeta, what's wrong?"

Well, apparently he wasn't the only one finishing his essays early.

"Do you think Gilbert and I wouldn't hear what happened? Literally everyone is talking about it, and I only found out when Ingrid from year nine told me about it at lunchbreak! Did Alfred really try to, you know...? Is he alright? For god's sake, he's my best friend! How long have you and Matthew tried to hide th--"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I'll tell you everything!" Arthur sighed in exasperation, taking the girl quickly by the hand and pulling her over to the exit which lead to the back yard, the infamous place for holding all important conversations.

"You better!" She huffed, her long brown hair covering her face as the wind struck them both unprepared. It was colder than they thought, but they didn't plan on going back inside.

"A-alright so, where do I start..." Arthur let out an exhale, fearing the Hungarian who was glaring at him with her arms crossed, but it was well visible from her eyes that the cause of her anger was the worry for Alfred's well-being. "So two days ago, I came over to Alfred's place to hang out, maybe a movie date, and all that stuff. His father was out of the house until midnight, which meant we had all the time to ourselves. But his father came home early, a-and he didn't really like the sight he saw."

"Oh god, what did you two do..."

"It was just a kiss, Liz! He walked in when we were kissing and... I-I think you know where this is going. I'd rather not tell. And no, he didn't try to take his life. Thank goodness for that."

Out of basic rationality, he decided to leave out the details such as Alfred hurting himself, which would remain a secret just between the two of them, and such as that dreadful Saturday not being the only time that his father used violence over him.

"That's terrible... Alfred must have been so scared." Elizabeta muttered, her voice close to a whisper as she looked at the other, face full of uneasiness. "He doesn't deserve that."

"I know. Matthew and he are staying at my place right now, until we figure things out."

"Tell Alfred that I want all the best for him, and that if he ever feels the need to, he can always talk to me." The girl softly added, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Is he at least somewhat alright now?"

"Yeah, he is."

No. He really isn't, whatsoever.

Alfred is going to be crushed with the rumors as soon as he comes back to school. And I don't even want to think about the jokes they come up with!

How can someone even joke about such a thing?

All I know is that... He'll take much, much more than a week to recover. Maybe even forever.

But sometimes not even forever is enough.


	33. Scent

Wednesday

'"How many times have I told you to leave that fucking piano alone?! Can't you see what music has done to your mother? Do you want to end up the same as her?"

A dark silhouette of a man advanced towards Alfred, holding a book of sorts. A very familiar book, in fact. The unknown person showed the item to him for a brief moment, before ripping it apart and angrily throwing it onto the ground. Alfred couldn't see his face or feel him - there was just a haunting voice echoing all around him and surrounding him, making it so there was no escape.

"You're a worthless piece of shit! I can't wait to see you ending up homeless and going back to me begging for a place to live!"

There was a sound of a door slamming in the distance scaring the young boy who was already close to tears from the words that were being said. But the dark figure was still there, staring directly at him from above. He fell to the floor and started loudly crying, picking up the remaining pieces of the book which looked as if it slowly started disintegrating into thin air.

As he tried to save the last page, the boy heard a blurred voice shouting above him.

"I wouldn't care if you died right now!"

And then it disappeared.'

Alfred woke up in a gasp for air, clutching the bedsheets within him as he looked around and blinked a couple of times, facing the real world once again. His entire body was shaking uncontrollably, but he tried to calm himself down by chanting the same sentence again and again, convincing himself he wasn't in danger.

"It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just... A dream." He shakily spoke, curling up to the sheets and trying to regain breath.

Once his mind was back to reality, his small, almost non-existent bit of rationality put the pieces together, realizing that it must had been somewhere around six in the afternoon judging by what the outside world looked like through the window. It certainly wasn't night, since he could see the bed next to his empty, and there was a faint sign of light coming from the hallway, which meant people were awake.

Apparently, he fell asleep at five as advised by Arthur after having a brief panic attack that tired him out to the limits. But a nap didn't help either, making him experience a terrifying and confusing nightmare that lead him to this moment in which he was right now. Sitting on the bed in perplexion, staring deeply into nothingness.

Soon enough, he snapped out of thoughts and threw a sideways glance at his phone that stood on the nightstand. Tapping on the screen, it showed one notification he didn't check yet. He decided to ignore it at the moment, having absolutely no strength to even look at the little device. Wordlessly, Alfred fell back down on the bed again as he let out a long exhale and closed his eyes.

With each day, his mind reminded him of everything horrible more and more, making him fall into an even worse state than he was already experiencing.

But he couldn't help it.

Why am I so pathetic?

\- - -

Friday, December 1st

A new month had started, and Alfred wanted to immediately wipe out all terrible November memories from his mind. But not everything went according to plan.

He still wasn't aware that all the students knew about what he was going through, since Arthur and Matthew didn't tell him about that, and Gilbert and Elizabeta were decent enough to keep their mouth shut. They knew it would break him to find out how people were making jokes, rumours and untrue stories about him.

"Twenty five days until Christmas!" Dylan, Arthur's nine year old brother seemed to be extremely excited about the upcoming holiday, but so were the others. Everyone except Alfred.

Matthew was the only one who understood why. Since their mother had passed away, the boys didn't experience holidays the same ever again. Of course, there were no presents, but that was doubtfully their biggest concern. Their father didn't allow Christmas music, celebrations or anything in that style - and while all the other children from school were having fun, they were usually stuck inside the house, trying to entertain each other in some way.  
But then there was Christmas of 2016. The worst one in Alfred's entire life.  
It started off nicely, everything was calm, but near its end, both Matthew and he were in tears, locked in their room until the end of the day. And all that just because of Alfred's little rebelllious stage in which he really wanted to spend the evening hanging out with Elizabeta and Arthur - and Matthew, of course - but their father didn't even want to hear about it. Luckily, there was no physical violence included, yet words can sometimes hurt more than actions.  
At those times, Alfred was already convinced that the man hated him, and it began getting slightly more difficult to keep the feelings still bottled up inside.

But this year, he was going to spend Christmas with the Kirkland family. They had already started on decorations around the house, and apparently, Alice was making some kind of traditional biscuits every December 1st for which all the kids were excited for, including Arthur.

The scent of the food spread over the house in no time, reminding Alfred and Matthew of their mother's Christmas cookies and giving them a different, nostalgic feeling.

"So, Alfred, are you excited for the holidays as well?" Alice asked the boy as he softly approached her in the kitchen, watching another trey of circular biscuits slide from her hands into the oven.

"I-I guess so, yeah." He smiled a little bit, feeling warmer than usual from the entire atmosphere that the house had suddenly taken on. "I'm happy I'll spend them with you and the family."

He truly was glad he wouldn't have to spend the winter alone, and despite his bad mental state, he was going to try and make others happy. And not only that, but he planned on spending a wonderful time with Arthur as well.

These people accepted him as family, and he couldn't have been more grateful for it.

\- - -

Sunday

Could have been better, could have been worse.  
Alfred was feeling quite alright that day, if one could call staying in bed and staring at the ceiling until the afternoon anywhere near alright.

But now for him, school preparations had begun, so now he was stuck with Alice Kirkland studying maths at the kitchen table. The woman also promised to help him with biology, physics and chemistry, which he was grateful for, but he still didn't have enough energy to solve equations for hours at the moment.

The three brothers and Matthew were watching television in their room, and Alfred could only hear laughter coming from behind that door.  
Matthew got along very well with Connor - mostly because the boy was very interested in scientific related things, despite their completely different personalities. While the young American was shy and closed in, Connor was, as Alfred would gently put it, borderline hyperactive.

"...And that is how you turn a mixed number into a fraction. Do you understand now?" Alice explained the rules very slowly so Alfred could catch up, and he managed to understand most of the things. He was lucky that the lady had patience, because he was sure that while solving actual problems, he was going to fail at least a hundred times.

"Yeah, I do." Alfred nodded, examining the paper with written out numbers on it. It was all just a bit clearer in his head now, but it wasn't his fault that his mind was still clouded with many more significant things rather than maths.

"Good! Now when you know that, let's hop over to the linear equations."

Wonderful.

As much as I'm thankful for Alice helping me, I'm way too tired to deal with this shit now.

Oh, why am I complaining anyway?

I'm just a spoiled brat, just like my father said.

"Alfred, are you listening?" Arthur's mother chuckled a little when she found the boy lost in his thoughts, staring somewhere in the distance as she was explaining where the variables go while doing the second row of the math problem.

"O-oh, I'm sorry, I was just..." Alfred was suddenly snapped out of thought by the woman's voice, and he instantly regretted not paying attention for a moment. "Never mind, let's continue."

So they did.

One thing was special about all of this - at home, any time Alfred would ask his father for help with any subject, the man would shout at him for being stupid and not good enough if he couldn't do it himself. And now he was sitting with possibly the most patient lady in the world, receiving actual help for something he didn't understand.

That was something he didn't expect at all, and couldn't be more grateful for it.


	34. Surprised

Monday

With a new week came new responsibilities, and new terrifying experiences that could all be simply described with one word - school. Today was the first day after a week of staying at home that Alfred would go back to sitting at a desk for eight hours straight and not paying attention to whatever was happening in class.

He woke up quite early, at about seven, and was awaited by a cup of hot chocolate made by his brother in the kitchen.

"Good morning", Matthew greeted the other softly, taking a sip of the drink from his own cup. "Ready for school?"

As soon as he asked that question, the younger boy immediately regretted it. Sure, maybe Alfred could be ready for going back, but he didn't know what would await him once he gets there. Rumours, gossip, unrealistic stories about him, and worst of all - the students knew about him and Arthur. The Brit didn't have the heart to deny it.

Arthur was personally alright with the teasing he had been receiving since the secret was out, but he knew that Alfred wouldn't be. And judging by the American's physical health, he was scared that those older boys would try something really, really stupid.

"No, not really." Alfred let out a silent chuckle, gulping down the whole cup of hot chocolate and sighing as he finally sat down at the dining table. "I'm very nervous to go back, honestly."

Matthew nodded as a sign of understanding. "I know. But you can always turn to me, Arthur, Liz or Gilbert if you feel bad." He tried his best to give his brother some reassurance, still knowing it would take much more than simply saying that.

"Thanks." The older smiled gently, looking down and thinking about too many things at once.

He was afraid of whether the teachers would ask him about his absence or not, and whether the math teacher would bombard him with questions on linear equations since he missed last week's testing.  
But most of all, he feared of not being able to properly keep his secrets safe and sound, away from other students.

Oh, it was going to be festive.

And not in a good way.

\- - -

"Why aren't we taking the bus to school?" Alfred asked with worry as he walked alongside Matthew and Arthur, who were seemingly distressed over something that he didn't know. And that bothered him a whole lot.

"Because it's going to be crowded, and we don't want you getting all anxious among people." Arthur simply responded, which wasn't a complete lie.  
But in all honesty, they just didn't want Alfred to face awkward situations on the way to school. In fact, they wanted him to stay home for a couple of more days, until the things among students calmed down a little.

The weather was alright that morning, foggy and a slight bit windy, but when wasn't English weather grey and dull? The boys could easily go to school by foot without feeling cold, which gave them the advantage of getting to the building quicker and not being late.

"A-alright then." Alfred was still perplexed, but didn't want to ask any other questions. Perhaps Arthur and his brother were right - this was a good way for him to catch fresh air and avoid social anxiety outbursts.

Once they arrived in front of the school, he started feeling more and more tense, wanting to be swallowed by the ground instead of going through the door. But he knew that there was no way he could just skip class and get away with it. Not with those teachers.

They were one of the first to arrive, probably because of leaving home far too early - not that it bothered them.

"Good morning!" Matthew greeted the doorkeeper, earning a kindly spoken 'hello' from the man.  
There were a few students revising from their textbooks together in the big hall on the ground floor, and one standing next to the radiator while scrolling through her phone. Luckily, none of them payed attention to Alfred, Arthur and Matthew.

The three boys made their way to one of the places to sit, deciding to just silently wait for Elizabeta and Gilbert to show up at school. The older American boy pulled out his phone, erasing four unread Tumblr notifications and putting the small device back in the front pocket of his backpack. Nothing interesting.

"We've never been here this early, huh?" Arthur whispered over to the other two, looking around at the empty space in the hall.  
Unfortunately, it wouldn't take much time for the place to fill with chatter, noise and laughter of other students as they slowly arrived at school, some by themselves and some in groups.

From the corner of his eye, Alfred spotted Liz and Gilbert going through the main entrance door, and soon enough all the other people from the school bus filled the emptiness in the room.

Arthur and Matthew silently prayed that Alfred and they would go unnoticed.

As the bell loudly rang, its sound echoing over all the hallways marking the beginning of first period, the three boys melted in the crowd and tiredly walked among the other students.

"Wait, what do we have first class?" Alfred muttered to himself under his breath, completely not organized for the day. "Oh. English, that's right."

"Oi, look at that, Jones is back from the mental hospital!"

All the students who were going through the corridor to the English classroom turned their heads first towards whoever was the one to shout out the sentence, and then to Alfred, who immediately stopped in his tracks, eyes wide at the comment received.

"You're right, he is! And his boyfriend is here with him, too!"

"I'm surprised he's still alive!" Somebody chuckled in certainly not a friendly sense.

"What are you doing here, lad, shouldn't you be crying over how your dad hates you?" A boy much taller than him swiftly approached him, loudly laughing as Alfred tried to take a step back, still in awe. Nothing seemed to allign.

He was suddenly utterly frightened and awfully confused at how the students even knew any of that in the first place. "I... I'm..." Speaking properly didn't work for him, and he managed to become even more flustered and afraid than he already was.

"What? You scared? Oh, sod off already!"

All he thought of doing was grabbing Arthur quickly by the hand for some sort of comfort, but he didn't know how to defend himself.

"Mate, leave Alfred alone before you get your arse kicked really badly, alright?" Arthur yelled at the group of students, and it seemed as if the hallway to the English classroom became a place to fight in, and to watch it happen.

"Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?"

"He might not do it by himself, but we will."

From the back, there was a strongly accented female voice, and Alfred immediately recognized his best friend as he turned around. Elizabeta and Gilbert quickly pushed themselves through the croud, approaching Arthur, Matthew and a terrifyingly confused Alfred.

"Go fuck someone else, you piece of shit! A girl isn't going to fight me!" The tall boy spat, shoving Elizabeta a step back. But she was strong and didn't let herself get pushed around like that, especially if it was for the cause of helping her friends.

Alfred all of a sudden felt really dizzy, and everything was really overwhelming - the shouting, the words being said, the crowdy atmosphere and being unexpectedly assaulted with questions, slurs and worst of all, being pushed back exactly as he was when his father came home that disturbing Saturday evening.  
He shut his eyes tight for a second and clenched his fists, running out of breath. Blinking a couple of times, he noticed his vision was blurry, and so did his hearing become.

So close to passing out, a second away from losing conscience...

Somewhere in the distance he heard an adult voice telling everyone to calm down, but his mind didn't process who, why or what. All he felt was the shouting abruptly stopping and people starting to walk away. He was still holding Arthur's hand as he took quick and distressed, shallow breaths, not being able to move. His mind paralyzed him completely, and there was only one sentence being repeated in his mind over and over again.

I'm surprised he's still alive!

In less than a second, he almost fell to the floor if Arthur and Elizabeta didn't catch him, Gilbert and Matthew watching from the side with concern. The younger American and the German didn't even bother going to their own classrooms. Right now, they needed to stay by Alfred.

Apparently, the students had caused such a scene that the principal had to intervene, sending everyone to English while she stayed to take care of Alfred and his troubled group of friends.

"I... Can't breathe." He whispered out just barely, clutching onto Arthur and gasping for air.

"Take him to the nurse." The young principal suggested, worry visible in her eyes as she glanced at the boy top to bottom. "You two can head to class", she motioned to Matthew an Gilbert, "those two will help." She finished, referring to Arthur and Elizabeta who were constantly reminding Alfred to breathe and stay with them.

The two boys obediently nodded and left towards their own classrooms, Matthew throwing one last glance towards his brother who was so obviously in pain.  
It wasn't a good idea to send him to school just yet, that was sure.

"He's having a panic attack, the nurse can't help at all." Arthur concluded, and the principal only partially agreed, but didn't want to meddle. Perhaps the boy knew better about these things.

It took Alfred ten minutes to calm down, but even then he was still lightly shaking, feeling miserable, exhausted and filled with a high will to hurt himself very, very badly.

"H-how do... How do they all know?" He asked shakily as they were sitting down each in their own armchair - the three seats were placed right where the corridor to English and the one to the library collided.

"It's complicated. But know that Matthew and I didn't say a word." Arthur spoke quietly, caressing the other's hand in a tender motion as a way of calming him.

Elizabeta had never seen her always cheerful best friend like this, and it made her extremely sad to see him in this state. "We're here to protect you, alright?"

He smiled almost unnoticeably, letting out a trembling sigh and wiping off his tears. "I don't deserve you two."

But somewhere in the back of his mind, that same sentence was on loop the entire time.

I'm surprised he's still alive!

Oh, he truly was surprised.


	35. Panic

After that brief panic attack which drained all the life energy out of him, Alfred still had to continue going to next period. Which was, unfortunately, Maths. Apparently, for their math teacher, having a mental breakdown wasn't a good enough excuse for missing class.

Elizabeta, Arthur and Alfred completely missed English, but the young teacher was aware of what happened and was, luckily, perfectly fine with that as long as Alfred felt alright.

"Are you sure you will be able to hold it out for the rest of the day?" Arthur asked him with care in his voice as they sat themselves at the desk in the Maths classroom.

The American could still feel the embarrassment that came from being the centre of attention, all eyes of the students were on him and they certainly didn't plan on letting him off the hook that easily.

"I hope so." He replied in a whisper, wanting to add something else but was interrupted by their coldhearted teacher entering the classroom and slamming the door behind herself.

"Good morning, class." She said in a monotone voice, and all the students stood up from their seats to greet her. "Oh, I see Alfred is back. I hope you've done some work while you have been at home." Glancing towards him, she sat down and the others immediately did the same.

Alfred didn't know what to feel. He knew things would be difficult the first day back, but he really didn't expect being terrorized by the students and in math class. Well, the latter was questionable.

"I have practised linear equations." He stated in a slightly shaky tone, again feeling that torturing presence of something bad on the inside. "B-but I'm too tired to do any today. Would you please test me another time?" With obvious fear in his voice, he asked the teacher hoping she would say yes, but knowing she most probably wouldn't.

"Absolutely not. Problems at home should not affect your education." She strictly responded, closing the door to any possibilities of being tested on a different day. "Come to the blackboard."

Alfred could hear a few students giggle at the teacher's response, and he wished to disappear in a black hole or just fall into the depths of hell instead of going in front of the whole class to solve linear equations with fractions.  
Without vocalizing his troubles, he sighed and stood up from the chair, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. But those icy looks were still on him, he could sense them, he could feel them, and they were driving him almost to insanity.

What had he ever done to those students to deserve that kind of treatment?

Were they so unaccepting of people who had any kind of problem, that they took it out on the first victim?

Victim. Oh, how he hated that word. He didn't want to be a victim of anything, but there were going to be people constantly putting that label on him from now on.

Why couldn't he just be a boy like any other?

"Alfred, are you paying attention to me?! I said write out task five on the blackboard and solve the problem!"

The horrifyingly loud and hysterically angry voice of the professor snapped him out of spiraling thoughts, and he let out a little gasp as he was hit in the face with reality once again. The class was laughing, everyone except Elizabeta and Arthur, and Alfred wished to have his existence deleted from the universe.

In shaky movements, he grabbed the chalk and took the book from the redhead teacher's hand, taking a deep breath as he started writing out the task.

It was obvious he was trembling, trying his best to hold in another outburst, and each number he added on the board told him he wouldn't be able to solve this at all.

That sentence from earlier was still haunting him in the distance, the reminder of it making him grip the chalk in his hand so much that it split in half, creating a slightly distressing noise on the blackboard. Embarrassed, he continued writing, trying his best to at least partially solve the task.

"Incorrect." The teacher coldly said as he wrote out the first row.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm very nervous--"

"That is not an excuse. Move on to the next one, please."

I can't do this.

My mind is boiling up, I'm tired, I'm so close to screaming out how I feel...

I wish I passed out last period. Then I wouldn't have to be here now, making a fool out of myself in front of the entire class.

I don't understand! I don't understand!

"I don't understand!" He finally shouted out, slamming his fist down on the board and dropping the book on the ground as he ran towards the classroom door to escape everything haunting him in his head.

He was battling his mind constantly, and couldn't rest on a single second.

At one point, it was going to drive him completely crazy. That was inevitable, he was sure it would happen.

"Alfred!" Elizabeta gasped, getting out of her chair without asking the teacher and immediately running after the boy, wherever he was heading to.

"Excuse me, but this is unacceptable--" The teacher was about to shout out many other things at the two students who ran out, but was immediately interrupted by Arthur - the Brit finally got bravery to stand up to the overly strict redhead professor.

"No, it is not! He is having another bloody panic attack, and you're the reason for it! I don't care what you say, I'm going after him."

Still hearing the yelling from the classroom, Alfred felt like throwing up as he made his way to the bathroom quickly, knowing that Elizabeta would follow him there.

I'm surprised he's still alive!

Worthless piece of shit!

Incorrect!

That is not an excuse!

All kinds of tormenting words echoed through his mind without stopping, and he let out a small shriek in pain as he felt his face collide with the floor, losing vision on a longer moment.

Everything was dark.

The screams all sounded the same.

There was no way out - he was between four narrow walls that were advancing towards him, and he couldn't fight back.

"Alfred, breathe! I'm here. Arthur is here. You're safe, okay? Please! Just look at me!" The brown haired Hungarian desperately pleaded, instantly getting the hold of the boy's hand.

But he didn't last much longer. Running out of breath, he lost conscience on the floor, suddenly stopping to hyperventilate.

"...He passed out." Arthur whispered. "Now we really do need a nurse."

\- - -

Alfred woke up in an unfamiliar bed, shifting a little and blinking a couple of times as he looked around the room. He was surrounded by four clear white walls, a pale light and complete silence. The only recognizable thing was the scent.

Nobody else was in the room, which at first scared him, but he then realized what this mysterious location really was.

He was at the school's emergency room.

A few seconds later, a young blonde lady in a light blue and white outfit walked into the room through the narrow door, closing it behind herself as she looked at him with a small, almost unnoticeable smile plastered on her face.

"Oh, good, you're awake." She said in a soft voice, approaching him just to check on his well being. "How are you feeling?"

"I... Don't know." He responded with confusion, feeling as if his breathing still wasn't normalized. But at least he wasn't shaking anymore, that was a good sign.

The nurse sighed and sat by her desk. "Alfred, have you ever experienced anything like this before?"

He shook his head as a negative answer. "Kind of but... Not like this, I guess."

Typing something into the computer in front of her, she nodded, quickly writing it out and saying the words aloud. "Severe heart palpitations, difficulty breathing, losing consciousness, nervousness... It all falls down under anxiety. Have you ever been diagnosed with it earlier?"

"No, I haven't."

All the words she read out made Alfred think about when did it actually start getting so much worse than just feeling a little bit sad or lost. He didn't want to be in this state. He just wanted to normally go to school, have a family, and not be so broken on the inside like he was. But that was so far away, that he barely remembered how it felt.

"Have you considered going to therapy?"

No, he really didn't. The last thing he wanted was somebody asking him intimate and overly personal questions to diagnose him with some illness he had probably never even heard of before. "N-no." He was honest, but a part of him knew there was probably no way out of the mess he got himself in.

"We'll have to discuss that with your caregivers. I know you're probably feeling very scared and uncomfortable right now, but therapy has helped a lot of people, and I believe it could do the same for you. Until the end of this week, you'll unfortunately have to continue going to school, but if you start feeling bad you have to excuse yourself and come here instead of class. Understand?"

Alfred wordlessly nodded, but didn't want to make eye contact with the lady. Instead, he looked down, sighed, and waited for this to be over as soon as possible.

"One last thing, I'll need the names of your caregivers." The blonde nurse said, preparing to type that into the computer as well. She was very kind and warm when working with teenagers, but also knew that some of them will need much, much more help than she by herself was able to give them.

Alfred being one of those.

"Alice and, uh... John Kirkland. I-I think. I'm not sure whether I'm allowed to call them my caretakers, though."

"I'll give them a call anyway. See you tomorrow then. At lunchbreak or even earlier. You're free to go", she gestured towards the door with a gentle smile, and Alfred immediately got off the strange bed he was sitting on since he found himself in this room.

"Where am I going now?" He asked.

"Home", she couldn't help but chuckle a little. "You slept over the whole day at school. We didn't want to disturb you. Seventh period is ending in ten minutes. You can wait for your friends, or you can go."

"O-oh." Feeling a bit embarrassed, he laughed almost inaudibly and realized that his backpack was here as well.

Sleeping over the whole day at school? That was something he didn't expect to happen.

"See you", he greeted as he finally left the room filled with the uncomfortable hospital scent, mind less cloudy than it was in the morning, but still not functioning well enough.

Therapy?

I really don't want that.

I know everyone says that it helps, but I'd rather end my life than do it.

Actually, I'd rather end my life than do anything.

When did I get to this point?


	36. Done

Hopeless.  
Completely worthless.  
Pathetic, nothing more than a mess.

No one can love such a person... Right?  
What if they all just want me out of sight?

Those voices in my head are right, I've heard them.  
What if they all just consider me a burden?

No one wants to hear me speak anyway.  
There will not be a single word I'll say.  
They all lie about some kind of better day.

I can't hear myself over the screams in my head.  
It's become too much, and I'm better off dead.

And if death is the only way out,  
Then I'll run to its gates as I shout:

I'm home, I'm home  
I'm finally home.

The words of the song were written in swift moves and messy handwriting one by one, tears falling on top of the paper and creating a pool of blue ink over the last verse of the work. But it was still visible to read, and that was the only important thing.

By now, the writer was uncontrollably crying, choking back sobs and on the verge of a total breakdown, gripping the pen tight in his hand and breathing heavily, body shaking entirely.

He was completely done with life.

The house was almost empty. There were only three children in the room across the hall, paralyzed by the moving pictures on the television screen and away from the world, in their own universe.

It was a perfect opportunity.

The boy stood up from the chair he was sitting on shakily, taking the paper he wrote on in his hand and carefully, nicely folding it. Almost falling back down from the momentary loss of vision from standing up too quickly, he managed to keep himself up by holding the edge of the table with one hand.

He took a deep breath.

His gaze flickered over to the only window in the room. It was raining, pouring and it seemed as if it didn't plan on stopping any time soon. He looked around the room. His brother's bed was empty. Slowly, as if he was walking on the edge, he approached the door and opened it in a gentle, but partially anxious manner.

He knew there was no help for him.

Things he had heard about going to therapy weren't appealing, and getting someone to talk to wasn't on his list of options any longer.  
In fact, that list shortened to only one thing.

He wasn't going to wait anymore.

Taking hysterical breaths, he was closer to the bathroom with each step. His heart was beating unsteadily, making it more and more difficult to inhale and exhale as it was proper to do. His mind was boiling, so many things gathering in it at once, making it clouded and dark, creating a chain of thoughts that all lead to one final thing.

Nothing was going to stop him.

Quickly checking out of the corner of his eye on the three boys watching television on the couch, he proceeded to enter the bathroom, very silently, closing the door behind himself. And there he was.

He had been thinking about doing this many times throughout his life, but it had never come so clear to him. Today seemed like the perfect day to do it - his closest ones were all busy, out of the house, at work or practice - and he didn't waste any more time.

With soft, lightly quivering movements, he opened the small cabinet to his right, taking a deep, quite loud breath at the thought of simply ending it all.  
It was scary.  
But he wasn't planning to stop here.

Taking out a small, shiny and sharp silver object, he took it in his hands and gulped at the anticipation of how it would feel to just...

He pulled up both his sleeves. There was a long line of perfectly alligned scars spread all over his left arm, but none on the wrist. It was dangerous to open a wound there. Life taking, perhaps.  
This time though, he was not even trying to hold back from sliding the glistening razor over the most sensitive part. But he didn't do it just yet.

The paper he had written on before was still in his hand, and he gently put it on the washbasin on the only place where it wasn't washed over with drops of water. Good. That was good.

Nothing mattered anymore.  
He couldn't hear the music in his mind, not even a lone F minor chord in the distance. Only screams that constantly reminded him of his worthlessness, his entire existence being a burden... The voices told him to do it. And he didn't know what else to do but believe them. After all, they were rational, wasn't that right?

Images flashed in his head. The death of his dear mother. The unfinished symphony she left for him... Someone else was going to finish it. But he wanted to join his mother on the other side.  
His father. All the torturing words that man made him believe. Useless, pathetic, stupid... Oh, it was all so true. If it weren't, he wouldn't be slowly sliding down to the floor with a razor in his hand, crying and wishing to die.

At this point, he wasn't only screaming on the inside, but on the outside as well.

"You're worthless! You're fucking worthless, do you understand? What are you waiting for? Are you that pathetic that you can't just... Do it already?"

A loud sob tore from his throat as he wasn't able to wait any longer, sliding the sharp item over his wrist once, twice, three times...

Pain shot through his entire body, and he gasped, shutting his eyes tight on just a brief second.  
He watched the blood drip down with blurry vision, and oh, it hurt so good.  
"I can't live anymore!" He shouted, the words followed by an instinctive reaction of kicking the bath tub next to him with his foot. The harsh bang echoed through the bathroom, spreading onto the hallways as he cried, and cried, and didn't stop crying.

So close to passing out. His world was slowly dissolving in front of him, vision becoming lwss blurry and more... Nonexistent.

In less than a second, there was nothing but darkness. And in that last second, he sobbed out an almost incoherent, small...

"Goodbye."

\- - -

"Did you hear something? I swear I heard a scream. And a bang."

Dylan Kirkland turned to his brothers Liam and Connor, all of them immediately focusing their attention to the origin of the sound they were now all sure appeared in the distance.

"I'm not sure but..." Connor frowned in perplexion. The only one home with them was Alfred - who promised to babysit, but instead ended up locking himself in the room after telling the three of them they can do whatever they want because he had more important things to do.  
Matthew and Arthur were absent as well. They were assigned a project with a couple of other students from different classes that, apparently, needed to be started this afternoon.  
Alice and John were called to work, not specifying where exactly they were going, but just quickly leaving the place.

All of them were scared to leave Alfred at home just like that, especially after him experiencing two panic attacks in the same day, but they deeply hoped that he would somehow entertain himself with the three.

"Wait here, I'll go check." Connor finished his words, taking the mystery in charge since he was the oldest.

The two younger brothers nodded in fear as they watched him go towards the bathroom. Somehow, the atmosphere suddenly tightened. In a very bad way.  
Something was happening, and it wasn't supposed to.

He walked over to the bathroom, knocking two times. "Alfred? You in there?"

No response.

"Is anyone in there?"

Silence.

To be completely sure that the bathroom was empty, he opened the door very slowly, covered in that childhood fear of looking for strange sounds and finding ghosts, secret portals or something of that style.

But when he walked in, it wasn't a ghost, nor a secret portal...  
It was way worse, and reality slapped him in the face harshly as his eyes met the sight of the boy laying down face on the floor, covered in blood, pale and limp, a shiny razor blade next to his right hand.

It was horrifying.

"Oh my goodness!" His breath hitched in his throat as the realization hit him. "Liam! Dylan! Please come over here a-and see... I think... I think..."

He was at a loss for words, borderline hyperventilating. "Call the emergency! Call mum!"

The other two boys swiftly ran over to the bathroom, the smaller covering his eyes, completely unable to look in front of him.

"We can't just let him die, we have to do something, alright?! Dylan, call someone! I'll try to stop the bleeding. Liam, you just stay here... Be calm." Connor said as he ran into the bathroom, immediately taking out a small package of white gauze from the drawer of the left, kneeling down and without hesitation getting the hold of Alfred's damaged arm. After removing the package foil, he placed the soft material gently where it was needed, wrapping it around the older boy's wrist and tying a knot when it seemed firm enough.

Alfred was alive, but unconscious.

Dylan quickly dialed the emergency number, telling them through tears about in what kind of situation they were put in, and what the address of the house is, and right after doing that, he knew he had to call up mum or dad as well.

"Hello?" The mother answered the phone after two rings.

He could barely explain what was happening. It was all so real, so horrible, absolutely devastating...

"A-alfred's in... He's... J-just come home, I-I can't..." The boy was rapidly breathing, shaking as the image of finding Alfred on the floor invaded his mind once again. "He tried to kill himself!" He finally shouted out, wiping off his tears and fighting back those that threatened to spill.

"Oh... Oh my god..." Alice whispered in shock. "We'll be right there, alright? Have you called the emergency?"

"Yeah, I have...! Just please, be quick... We're running out of time."

\- - -

"He tried what?!" John Kirkland jumped out of the office chair as his wife notified him about what happened while they were absent from home.

Their colleagues in the meeting room were in the same amount of shock, not asking any questions as the two were suddenly hurrying out. The Kirklands didn't waste any more time.

"What the bloody hell was he thinking?" The usually timid and quiet man was shouting as they stormed out of the big building that they called their workplace, running towards the car.

He was driving fast, not paying attention to the red lights, but he didn't care whatsoever. And neither did Alice. This was a question of life and death of a boy that they both grew to call their family, there was no stopping now.

"Should I call Arthur and Matthew to warn them?" Alice asked during the ride.

"Not now! Later!"

They had parked the car in at the exact second as the giant, red emergency vehicle, three people in uniforms running out of it with a stretcher on wheels.  
"Are you the parents?" The third lady asked John and Alice as she saw them both awfully distressed.

"Caretakers, more like. Does it even matter now? The boy's life is in danger!" The father brushed it off, all the people sprinting into the house which was, surprisingly, unlocked. That must had happened by accident, but it certainly came in handy in an emergency situation.

Everything was happening so quickly, in a span of ten minutes, fifteen minutes...

"He's in the bathroom!" Connor shouted as the two men and a woman in uniforms suddenly appeared in the house. They nodded simultaneously, heading towards the said place and instantly taking care of the situation, picking an already half dead, still lightly bleeding body of the boy up from the ground, placing him gently, but in quick movements, on the stretcher and carrying him over to the van parked outside of the house.

The Kirklands all watched in horror.

"John, make sure to stay with the kids and call Arthur. Tell him to go to the emergency room. I'm going as well." Alice took control over herself at last, swiftly walking off to the vehicle along with the people. Somebody needed to be by Alfred's side.

What a devastating moment for Alfred, and those who were the absolute closest to him weren't present.

It was a matter of life and death.

In Alfred's life, it was usually darkness that won over him.

This time, he needed a spark of light, even though he didn't want it.

A glint of luck to survive.


	37. Barely Conscious

"I can't believe him..." Arthur stood outside the door of a hospital room, more specifically, the hospital room where Alfred was placed in after his failed attempt at ending his life. "I thought he wouldn't go that far."

The Brit seemed to remain as calm as possible, but he really wasn't. On the inside, he was burning and boiling, blaming himself for not being there to stop him from doing something stupid. He silently cried, wiping off his tears constantly so they would go unnoticed, and fidgeting with a small piece of paper in his hands - the note Alfred had left before doing it. He was the one who found it on the washbasin, showing it only to Matthew. He thought it would be only fair for the brother to know about it.

Matthew didn't say a single word. Finding out his brother tried to end his existence made his mind just paralyzed, as if the world stopped spinning and the sun would never come out again. Alfred was the only broken piece of their family remaining. And if the younger lost him, he would lose everything. Just everything.  
He didn't blame himself, no, but there was this new bottled up hate for their father and how he had ruined his older brother all these years to the point of making him wish he was dead, and he didn't know how to express this new found anger.

The entire family was now in the hospital waiting room, taking up almost the entire hallway. The nurse told them Alfred would live, but that didn't create a much better atmosphere. As much as they wanted him alive, they did not want him to suffer. And everyone knew that as soon as he woke up, he'd start wishing he wasn't awake... And that would break them all.

"I told you he'd rather die than get help." Matthew stated in a bitter tone, staring at the wall, sitting the closest to where Arthur was standing.

But if he goes, I go too. That's the rule. I wouldn't be able to cope.

The younger boy didn't say the thought out loud, and rather kept his emotions bottled up - somebody needed to be rational at the worst times.

"I feel like I could have done something... I'm to blame for not seeing he would go this far, I should have stayed with him at home today... But no! I-I went to school, I left him alone." Arthur could barely hold back anymore. He tried staying calm since he got the news of what happened, but at this point his mind was already on the edge. He couldn't hide the tears anymore. "He could have died. I don't... I don't want to think about it."

"But he's still alive so can we stop talking?!" Matthew snapped at the other, surprising everyone around him. He was usually always shy and quiet, but with this new rage inside of him it was difficult not to lash out and punch a wall.

"Sorry." Arthur whispered, blinking away more tears and letting out a long exhale as he kept pacing around the hall.  
The family wanted to stay there just a little bit longer, even though the doctors told them Alfred would probably not wake up until tomorrow.

He wasn't in the best state, but it was important that he was still... Breathing.

\- - -

Tuesday

Alfred woke up once again in an unfamiliar area, feeling awfully heavy and entirely in pain. At first, he could barely open his eyes, blinking a few times to chase the blur away and look around to understand where this new place was. He was met with a whole lot of white - white walls, a desk, curtains and the bedsheets that he was covered with. Only soft light crept from the outside world, illuminating the room naturally and making it feel brighter than it actually was.

It was Tuesday already, only two in the afternoon.

"Am I dead?" He muttered tiredly, shifting just slightly on an unknown surface which seemed like quite a comfortable bed.

He tried to move his arms, but only the right one could properly function. Moving his left arm felt as if a heavy weight was placed on it, and he let out a near silent hiss in pain from the effect. The wounds were all bandaged, and after such a long time he was wearing short sleeves again.

Actually, when did he get changed anyway?

With his right hand, he uncovered himself and found out his current clothing was a white nightie that resembled those pale hospital dresses which the patients usually wore.

...Oh.

How did he end up at the hospital?  
Mind still lost in the haze, he didn't remember all the details that brought him here, but the last thing engraved into his mind was crying, screaming and passing out in the bathroom.

He tried to take his life, but didn't succeed.

Less than minutes after he woke up, a young lady walked into the room he was placed in, carrying some kind of folder in her hand as she approached his bed. She looked indifferent from just her facial expression, and Alfred wondered what she could have possibly been thinking about behind that emotionless mask of hers.

"Oh, good, you're finally conscious again." She stated, but didn't smile. "There's someone who wants to see you outside. Are you capable of seeing them now?"

"Who... Who is it?" Alfred asked in a soft spoken tone. His breathing was now stabilized, but he still felt like something was entirely wrong...

He felt as if he was not supposed to be here.

"Arthur Kirkland", the nurse replied, writing something down in that file of hers as she checked all around him.

"Let him in." Without hesitation, he responded, but then tried to take that back immediately. Yet, he couldn't do that with actual words. Something in his mind was screaming at him that it was not a good idea to see Arthur after what he had tried to do, especially because he didn't know whether the Brit was mad, sad, disappointed or simply didn't care - what was worse? What if he wanted to break up with him? Or never see him again?

But there was no turning back now.

The tall English boy walked cautiously into the hospital room, school backpack strapped over his right shoulder as he approached Alfred's bed.

There was this strange, uncomfortable, thick silence that fell upon the two of them as soon as the nurse left to let them speak alone, and neither of them enjoyed it.

Alfred shifted upwards on the bed a little, still really careful with his left arm which had yet to stop hurting him. He didn't dare to make eye contact.

"Hey." Arthur greeted softly, dropping the backpack on the floor and sitting himself on a chair next to the bed.

"L-listen, before you say anything... I want to apologize, I-I acted stupidly and I know you probably want to leave me, and you have a point, I'm--"

"Stop rambling, Alfred."

The American immediately shut up, biting his lip as he was scared how Arthur would react, what he would say... He didn't want to lose him. "I'm sorry."

Arthur didn't shout. He didn't seem angry. In fact, his eyes showed a glint of softness, care and love rather than anger. Tenderly, he took Alfred's hand into his and intertwined their fingers together, sharing the warmth between them in the only way they could at the moment. "You don't have to apologize. I'm just... I was so scared I'd lose you... I can't lose you. I wouldn't be able to live if I did. If only there was a way for me to stop you before you tried to do it... I'm sorry that you feel this way. But you're alive and that's all that matters."

"...I love you, Arthur." Alfred managed to shakily reply after a moment, finally allowing himself to make a little bit of momentary eye contact with the Brit. He tightly held his hand, feeling safer when next to him.

"I love you, too. But don't you ever scare me like that again, understood?"

"U-understood." He let out a small chuckle, thankful that Arthur really wasn't mad.

Although a big part of him still wished that he didn't have to wake up ever again, he was grateful for having someone like Arthur in his life. And he was never going to try ending it again, that was a mental note he made to himself.

"Just so you know, you don't have to go to school until January, after winter break. It's all already arranged, so don't worry about that. Arthur added, smiling a little. "I hope you agree to finally get help now. I'll be there every moment you need me, don't forget that."

Therapy. Alfred knew that, at this point, it was inevitable. They wouldn't let him off the hook that easily - which meant that he might not get out of the hospital for days. "O-oh. Right. I mean... Do I have to? I mean, get therapy."

"Yes, you do. I know it sounds scary but... It'll make you feel better over time. And if you want that, I can go with you. As moral support."

"Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur didn't reply with words, but rather leaned in, giving Alfred a gentle, short kiss that made the other feel simply...

Safe.


	38. Questions

Here we go. This is the moment from which I'll either start to get better or worse.

I can't believe they have signed me up for a therapy session that quickly! I literally woke up three hours ago, and they're already sending someone in?

This is scary. Very scary.

"Good afternoon! You're Alfred Jones, is that right?"

A somewhat cheerful, female voice with an amusing Scottish accent could be heard from the door. Alfred turned his head and sat up a little on the bed to find out it was a young lady with luxurious, long and curly red hair in a white uniform - the therapist.

Oh, she's already here...

Wonderful.

"Uh... Hello." He managed to stutter out two words, avoiding eye contact and rather examining an unknown spot in the distance which was probably non-existent in the first place.

"I'm Emily, your therapist." She sat herself on the plastic chair next to Alfred's bed. The first thing she spotted on the boy were the scars, and the gauze tightly wrapped around his wrist that made her inwardly shiver just slightly, but she didn't show it. That was, in all honesty, kind of scary. By that small physical analyse she could understand a bit of his backstory, but nothing more than why he was at the hospital in the first place.

Emily. That's my mum's name.

I shouldn't be thinking about that now, should I?

"So, Alfred, let me ask you a few things to get to know you better."

Questions? Just fantastic. I mean, it was sure to be expected but... I wish I could run away from this.

"G-go ahead." He said instead, wanting to hide the shame of the wounds showing on his left arm. In fact, it was cold in short sleeves, he didn't understand why it was obligatory for him to wear a night dress in the first place.

"What do you like to do? What are your interests?" Emily looked excited to be here, and Alfred guessed that he might had been her first patient. She was young, and had yet lots to experience.

"Um... I like to play piano." He muttered, now averting his glaze to the floor.

"That's interesting, so do I!"

Wait, what?

Mind, don't you dare do this to me now. I have to stay calm and collected for the next ten or fifteen minutes.

You must stop reminding me of that Chopin valse now. It's not the time for it! It's not! It's not!

Having a constant shouting voice in his mind, Alfred had difficulties focusing on talking and speaking properly, and remembering what was the last thing that someone said... And that was tiring. Extremely.

"My mother played the piano as well." Suddenly, he blurted out, not meaning to start that topic whatsoever. But, he had very little control over himself.

The Scottish lady politely smiled at his answer. "Why that's wonderful, isn't it? Music certainly gives the world more life."

"I agree." Alfred nodded, just shyly smiling, almost unnoticeably.

"Tell me about your family a little, Alfred. Do you have a brother? Sister?"

Not family. Just not that topic. I don't want to, please...

Why is it suddenly so difficult to stay polite?

"I have a younger brother... H-his name's Matthew. And he's really kind to me."

And he probably hates me after what I've tried to do yesterday. He didn't come visit me in the hospital, and Arthur did.

I bet Matthew really does hate me now. But he has a good reason. I was selfish. I am selfish. I don't deserve to have him in my life.

I wouldn't be surprised if he never wants to talk to me again.

"And I'm guessing you're from... New York. Am I correct?" She chuckled a bit too happily, bright green eyes shining with excitement, and a jittery feeling Alfred couldn't read.  
It was easy to tell from his sorrowful, almost cloudy blue eyes that he did not like the subject of family, so Emily immediately changed it.

"Yeah... How'd you know?"

"The accent. It's very specific. How was it living in New York? Do you miss it?"

Uh... I've never really thought about this before.

I don't know whether I miss America or not. I've made friends in London, and of course I love home but...

Here, I have Arthur, but a lot of bad memories. At home, with my father, it was all bad. Probably since day one, all of it. Yesterday I marked the Kirklands' place a bad memory as well. But I have met friends, had my first kiss, and found a great piano teacher.

There, I have no one, but a lot of good memories. Mostly those from when my family wasn't in pieces. And of course, all of the music. With mum. I miss that so, so much...  
The things I'd do just to get one more hour with her.

After zoning out on at least a minute, Alfred blinked a couple of times to face reality once again, his perplexed, startled eyes meeting Emily's, as if that single glance was a cry for help.

"I... Don't know."

\- - -

Fifteen minutes of talking with a stranger about life, family and feelings.

Fifteen minutes of complete confusion and wordlessness.

Alfred thought it must had been the slowest, longest fifteen minutes of his life. He never wanted to go through it again, but knew he would have to do it at least a couple of more times. There was no way out of it.

Now, he was laying on the clean, somewhat comfortable hospital bed in dreadful silence, staring at the blank space above him, not focusing on anything specific.  
He almost felt disconnected from the real world, melting and becoming one with all the confusing and concerning thoughts in his head.  
Most were still going on about the therapist's question - did he miss New York?

Indeed, he did.

Alfred knew there was no way he could enjoy it as he did as a child, though. He just wanted his family back, his mother, and the joy of music in the air. He didn't want to hear the words recovery, therapy or victim around him. He wanted to be home for Christmas with the Jones family as a whole.

I know, it's difficult right now, but I have to find a way to get over it. To move on, step on the negativity with power and make myself a happy person again.

But was I ever a happy person in the first place?

Maybe I was meant to feel like this.

Maybe life isn't for everyone.

"Alfred, your family came to visit." The soft voice of the nurse snapped him out of the mournful spiral of thoughts, and he just glanced at the door without saying a single word.

Family...?

Perhaps the Kirklands. But I never thought they considered me family.

But it was really them. Not only them, but Elizabeta and Gilbert joined the group of people as well. Alice, John, and Arthur were there - the other boys were far too young to see him like this, at least in their parents' eyes. And Alfred understood that completely.

Everyone he deeply cared about was there.

Except Matthew.

At that moment, Alfred felt so utterly ashamed of himself.  
It all dawned on him at last - he tried to take his life. He thought no one cared about his existence, and that he was meant to die instead of live, but he was so wrong.

Instead of making others happy, he made them worried. And that was certainly not his purpose. His purpose was to be a musician, to live, laugh and to not let himself be brought down by negative people in life.

"Alfred, why would you do this?" Elizabeta flew to his bed in less than a second, not hesitating at all when she pulled him into a tight hug to which he didn't know how to properly react. "I love you so much, but right now you're such an idiot! Don't you ever bloody dare try to do something like that again..." She kept on hugging him, speaking a bit too loudly for his taste. But he didn't mind at all.

"I-I'm sorry--" He tried saying, yet it came out muffled by the Hungarian girl being too scared to let him go.

"It's alright. You're still alive and that's all that matters now."

Arthur already visited him earlier by himself, but didn't miss a chance to see him again. He would never miss such an opportunity.

"You're being released from the hospital tonight", Arthur's mother softly commented, "so we came to see you. I brought biscuits, I have a feeling they're better than any food here." She chuckled as she placed a small box full of homemade fresh biscuits on the table next to Alfred's bed.

"We're all very glad that you're alive. I wish we could have stopped you before you brought yourself to where you are now. But, putting that aside. You're here and we're happy." The father was very good in putting all they thought into words, which helped them express how they felt much better.

"T-thank you." Alfred didn't know how to respond. It was overwhelming having his friends and family all here, all examining his well-being... It made him feel guilty. "I-I swear, I'll never try such a thing again... I wasn't thinking. I don't want to lose you all." He was slightly shaking, but it luckily wasn't very noticeable.

He promised himself to try and get better, because there was a million things he hadn't done in life, and it just appeared crystal clear in his mind that he was not made to die - he was made to create the best of time he had together with the ones he loved.

It was a long road to recovery, but he was going to make it.

No doubt.

But it was not all as clear as it seemed, and every person in the room understood that very well.

Matthew doesn't want to see me again, I knew it.

Does he really hate me after what I've done?

Will he ever forgive me?


	39. Anger

As Alfred was finally released from the hospital that same night, the Kirklands had a lot of work to do. First, they dropped Gilbert and Elizabeta off at their homes, and then continued to drive home with Alfred and Arthur.

The two boys sat together in the back seats, the Brit embracing the other tightly and holding his hand as they both just felt at peace for at least that longer moment.

Well, one of them was completely at peace, and one was worried. Again.

"Alfred, you seem troubled... What's bothering you?" Arthur whispered to him gently, moving to the side a few strands of hair that covered the American's gorgeous blue eyes.

"Nothing, nothing." Alfred immediately replied, leaning onto the Brit for extra warmth and safety as they drove off towards home.  
Never in a thousand years did he imagine that he would call Arthur's place home. But here they were now, sharing a place to live - temporary or not, he didn't care. As long as they were together.

"No, you can say it." The English boy softly smiled, spending more time than usual just looking at Alfred, taking in his scent and noticing how wonderful he actually was to him. And to think he almost lost him... Arthur wouldn't be able to take it.

"...Fine." Alfred sighed in defeat. "I'm worried how Matthew will act when I get home. Is he mad or...? I don't want him to be angry with me."

And as Arthur was going to reply, a 'we're here' could be heard from the front seat, and the Kirklands' old Mercedes was parked in the driveway.

The two boys got out, closing the door behind them and both slightly shivering at the cold December air that suddenly hit them unprepared. "Alfred, he's not mad at you." Arthur managed to quickly respond, taking the American boy by the hand as they walked over to the house, waiting for the parents to unlock the door.

Inside the house, they were awaited by Arthur's three brothers all jumping to hug everybody out as tight as that was possible, and Alfred didn't even bother to fight back. Instead he accepted the momentary embrace, noticing how he was actually... Smiling. It was a little smile, but it showed that he was, indeed, happy to be alive at the given moment. At least to a certain degree.

"Alright boys, let Alfred go." Alice chuckled when she realized that the boy was barely able to move from their endless hugging. It was a humorous, but quite cheerful sight to experience.

They really did let him go, and he gave them another small smile before heading directly to the guest room - his mind, heart and body led him towards his younger brother, the worry almost tearing him apart.

He didn't enter the room immediately. He listened a bit in front of the door, hearing nothing but complete silence coming from the inside. So he knocked.

"Who is it?" There was a voice from the other side. It was Matthew, of course, speaking in a hoarse and tired tone.

"It's Alfred."

"...Oh."

Matthew didn't tell him that he could come in, but he still did, making soft and slow steps into the room and closing the door behind himself.  
The younger was laying on the bed with only the screen of his phone giving light to the otherwise dark space around, and as Alfred walked in, he didn't move a muscle. Didn't turn around, didn't look... Just like nothing had happened.

"Am I bothering...?" Alfred asked cautiously, approaching his own bed. But he didn't sit down.

"No." Matthew replied with a monotone voice, finally shutting off his phone and giving his brother nothing more but a second long sideways glance.

"Are you angry? Please... Please don't be."

"No."

"Can we, uh... Talk?"

I have a feeling he's just going to repeat the same answer to whatever I ask him. That's something he never does.

"No."

My predictions proved to be correct.

"Please?" Alfred pleaded, eyes teary and breathing shallow. As usual. His calm stages were never able to last long, as if there was something pulling him down deeper that black hole his mind kept creating over and over again.

Matthew sighed, knowing he had lost the battle. At moments like these, his rational thinking would dissipate for some time, and all he would be left with was... Anger. Just like their father felt. Full of boiled up anger held inside until he couldn't take it anymore and had to release it somehow. But unlike the man, Matthew knew how to control it most of the time. "Fine. Talk then."

"I have to apologize. I know you must probably hate me now, a-and you have a good reason for that but... Please, forgive me. I didn't think and I swear to this world I'll never try anything like that again."

Or I can at least try my best not to do it.

"You're an idiot, Alfred, do you know that?" Matthew bitterly replied, getting off the bed in a couple of quick movements and advanced towards his brother who stood there, drowning in fear and concern. "You're a fucking idiot! You act so sweet and so apologetic now, but you tried to take your own life! Are you out of your mind or what?! A-and you promised! I doubt you even remember what promise I'm talking about, huh?" He couldn't stop now. Lashing out the frustration was the only way, and it wasn't Alfred who he blamed.

"I... I don't remember..." The older blonde muttered, looking down at the floor in shame.

"The promise you made to me two years ago? Oh, I'll tell you. It was in the evening, and you felt extremely pathetic. You confessed to me that you thought of taking your life, and I was so distressed over it that I cried and made you promise you would never, ever try to do that! And you agreed! I still couldn't sleep that night. Thinking that my older brother, the only person in this family that I trusted, wanted to stop existing just absolutely ruined me!" By now, he was in tears, shouting out the words through a couple of harsh breaths that hitched in his throat. "But guess what? You broke that promise. You could have died, does that get through your thick skull?"

Alfred was left speechless. Never in his life did he expect Matthew to act like this, and never did he want it to happen.

"Arthur showed me that song you left for us. I wanted to burn it. I don't want that in my memory. I want only you, you in your happy form a-and I know it's not your fault, I know it's not but I can't help it! I can't--"

The harsh yelling of his was suddenly interrupted by a warm embrace, soft arms wrapping around him and making him stop the shouting, to just stay calm... "It's fine. It's all fine." Alfred spoke almost silently, gently hugging the other and letting him cry it all out instead of showing anger. He was almost in tears himself, but this time he was the one that needed to stay strong, even if he was weaker than that one leaf remaining on a snowy tree fighting against the winter winds. "It's all okay."

But it wasn't.

Both Alfred and Matthew knew that from now on, things would never be the same again. And that could be perceived as good and bad at the same time. That was what confused them the most - what to think of all this?

"Alfred... I-I'm scared. I'm terrified of losing you, and worried for our future. What if... What if nothing ever gets better? I want our old life back. I want to go back to New York." Matthew couldn't hold back at all. There was a lot of overflowing emotion pouring over them both, and all they could do was stand there, hold each other tightly, afraid to let go.

"I know. I do, too. But... I've thought about things when I woke up this morning and I realized what a huge mistake I've done by trying to take my life. Matthew, we have so much to do, so much to experience... Our lives can still change for the better. Let's think of it this way. We've hit rock bottom. So we can only go up from here, isn't that right?"  
Alfred barely believed in his own words as he spoke. He knew that getting better was a long, years long, painful and extremely difficult process, and that he himself might never get back up there completely, but he wanted his younger brother to feel alright.

"Up? Up where? We don't have a real home anymore! We don't have a mother nor a father, we don't have anything anymore! A-and if you had succeeded yesterday, I wouldn't have anyone. I'd follow your footsteps to death."

"Matthew, we're not alone."

"B-but how--"

"We have each other."

And nothing can take that away from us.

Just a day ago, I really did hit the bottom. I thought there was no other way out besides death, but that truly isn't the case. It's never the case.

I have Arthur. I have Matthew. And perhaps life is difficult. Very difficult, at that note. But who ever said it was going to be easy?

"Alfred..." The younger American wiped off his tears, still speaking in a very shaky voice.

"Yeah?"

"I'm so glad you're alive."

So they hugged again.  
But this time, they were not afraid to let go - they just wanted the moment to last.  
All previous anger had already vanished, leaving behind a strong, brotherly connection that couldn't be easily broken.

It could only be stronger.


	40. Snow

As Alfred was finally released from the hospital that same night, the Kirklands had a lot of work to do. First, they dropped Gilbert and Elizabeta off at their homes, and then continued to drive home with Alfred and Arthur.

The two boys sat together in the back seats, the Brit embracing the other tightly and holding his hand as they both just felt at peace for at least that longer moment.

Well, one of them was completely at peace, and one was worried. Again.

"Alfred, you seem troubled... What's bothering you?" Arthur whispered to him gently, moving to the side a few strands of hair that covered the American's gorgeous blue eyes.

"Nothing, nothing." Alfred immediately replied, leaning onto the Brit for extra warmth and safety as they drove off towards home.  
Never in a thousand years did he imagine that he would call Arthur's place home. But here they were now, sharing a place to live - temporary or not, he didn't care. As long as they were together.

"No, you can say it." The English boy softly smiled, spending more time than usual just looking at Alfred, taking in his scent and noticing how wonderful he actually was to him. And to think he almost lost him... Arthur wouldn't be able to take it.

"...Fine." Alfred sighed in defeat. "I'm worried how Matthew will act when I get home. Is he mad or...? I don't want him to be angry with me."

And as Arthur was going to reply, a 'we're here' could be heard from the front seat, and the Kirklands' old Mercedes was parked in the driveway.

The two boys got out, closing the door behind them and both slightly shivering at the cold December air that suddenly hit them unprepared. "Alfred, he's not mad at you." Arthur managed to quickly respond, taking the American boy by the hand as they walked over to the house, waiting for the parents to unlock the door.

Inside the house, they were awaited by Arthur's three brothers all jumping to hug everybody out as tight as that was possible, and Alfred didn't even bother to fight back. Instead he accepted the momentary embrace, noticing how he was actually... Smiling. It was a little smile, but it showed that he was, indeed, happy to be alive at the given moment. At least to a certain degree.

"Alright boys, let Alfred go." Alice chuckled when she realized that the boy was barely able to move from their endless hugging. It was a humorous, but quite cheerful sight to experience.

They really did let him go, and he gave them another small smile before heading directly to the guest room - his mind, heart and body led him towards his younger brother, the worry almost tearing him apart.

He didn't enter the room immediately. He listened a bit in front of the door, hearing nothing but complete silence coming from the inside. So he knocked.

"Who is it?" There was a voice from the other side. It was Matthew, of course, speaking in a hoarse and tired tone.

"It's Alfred."

"...Oh."

Matthew didn't tell him that he could come in, but he still did, making soft and slow steps into the room and closing the door behind himself.  
The younger was laying on the bed with only the screen of his phone giving light to the otherwise dark space around, and as Alfred walked in, he didn't move a muscle. Didn't turn around, didn't look... Just like nothing had happened.

"Am I bothering...?" Alfred asked cautiously, approaching his own bed. But he didn't sit down.

"No." Matthew replied with a monotone voice, finally shutting off his phone and giving his brother nothing more but a second long sideways glance.

"Are you angry? Please... Please don't be."

"No."

"Can we, uh... Talk?"

I have a feeling he's just going to repeat the same answer to whatever I ask him. That's something he never does.

"No."

My predictions proved to be correct.

"Please?" Alfred pleaded, eyes teary and breathing shallow. As usual. His calm stages were never able to last long, as if there was something pulling him down deeper that black hole his mind kept creating over and over again.

Matthew sighed, knowing he had lost the battle. At moments like these, his rational thinking would dissipate for some time, and all he would be left with was... Anger. Just like their father felt. Full of boiled up anger held inside until he couldn't take it anymore and had to release it somehow. But unlike the man, Matthew knew how to control it most of the time. "Fine. Talk then."

"I have to apologize. I know you must probably hate me now, a-and you have a good reason for that but... Please, forgive me. I didn't think and I swear to this world I'll never try anything like that again."

Or I can at least try my best not to do it.

"You're an idiot, Alfred, do you know that?" Matthew bitterly replied, getting off the bed in a couple of quick movements and advanced towards his brother who stood there, drowning in fear and concern. "You're a fucking idiot! You act so sweet and so apologetic now, but you tried to take your own life! Are you out of your mind or what?! A-and you promised! I doubt you even remember what promise I'm talking about, huh?" He couldn't stop now. Lashing out the frustration was the only way, and it wasn't Alfred who he blamed.

"I... I don't remember..." The older blonde muttered, looking down at the floor in shame.

"The promise you made to me two years ago? Oh, I'll tell you. It was in the evening, and you felt extremely pathetic. You confessed to me that you thought of taking your life, and I was so distressed over it that I cried and made you promise you would never, ever try to do that! And you agreed! I still couldn't sleep that night. Thinking that my older brother, the only person in this family that I trusted, wanted to stop existing just absolutely ruined me!" By now, he was in tears, shouting out the words through a couple of harsh breaths that hitched in his throat. "But guess what? You broke that promise. You could have died, does that get through your thick skull?"

Alfred was left speechless. Never in his life did he expect Matthew to act like this, and never did he want it to happen.

"Arthur showed me that song you left for us. I wanted to burn it. I don't want that in my memory. I want only you, you in your happy form a-and I know it's not your fault, I know it's not but I can't help it! I can't--"

The harsh yelling of his was suddenly interrupted by a warm embrace, soft arms wrapping around him and making him stop the shouting, to just stay calm... "It's fine. It's all fine." Alfred spoke almost silently, gently hugging the other and letting him cry it all out instead of showing anger. He was almost in tears himself, but this time he was the one that needed to stay strong, even if he was weaker than that one leaf remaining on a snowy tree fighting against the winter winds. "It's all okay."

But it wasn't.

Both Alfred and Matthew knew that from now on, things would never be the same again. And that could be perceived as good and bad at the same time. That was what confused them the most - what to think of all this?

"Alfred... I-I'm scared. I'm terrified of losing you, and worried for our future. What if... What if nothing ever gets better? I want our old life back. I want to go back to New York." Matthew couldn't hold back at all. There was a lot of overflowing emotion pouring over them both, and all they could do was stand there, hold each other tightly, afraid to let go.

"I know. I do, too. But... I've thought about things when I woke up this morning and I realized what a huge mistake I've done by trying to take my life. Matthew, we have so much to do, so much to experience... Our lives can still change for the better. Let's think of it this way. We've hit rock bottom. So we can only go up from here, isn't that right?"  
Alfred barely believed in his own words as he spoke. He knew that getting better was a long, years long, painful and extremely difficult process, and that he himself might never get back up there completely, but he wanted his younger brother to feel alright.

"Up? Up where? We don't have a real home anymore! We don't have a mother nor a father, we don't have anything anymore! A-and if you had succeeded yesterday, I wouldn't have anyone. I'd follow your footsteps to death."

"Matthew, we're not alone."

"B-but how--"

"We have each other."

And nothing can take that away from us.

Just a day ago, I really did hit the bottom. I thought there was no other way out besides death, but that truly isn't the case. It's never the case.

I have Arthur. I have Matthew. And perhaps life is difficult. Very difficult, at that note. But who ever said it was going to be easy?

"Alfred..." The younger American wiped off his tears, still speaking in a very shaky voice.

"Yeah?"

"I'm so glad you're alive."

So they hugged again.  
But this time, they were not afraid to let go - they just wanted the moment to last.  
All previous anger had already vanished, leaving behind a strong, brotherly connection that couldn't be easily broken.

It could only be stronger.


	41. Hopeful Again

January 15th, 2018

All the celebrations, the time spent with family and friends, and the relaxing feeling of being on winter holidays were nothing but a memory once this dreadful Monday hit Alfred like a meteor, making him anxious as soon as he woke up and checked the newly placed calendar on the wall of his and Matthew's bedroom to see if it really was that day.

It was the first day of school.

Allistor had already gone back to university a week ago, the younger ones were still able to sleep longer, but Alfred, Arthur and Matthew were already on their way back to the desks and classrooms.  
Truth be told, they were all scared, especially the older American.  
The last time he was at school could have easily been the last day of his life, but he was lucky enough to survive and fight through the emotional pain rather than just end it all. Over the course of a month, his mindset was slowly turning towards the sun instead of pulling him deeper into that endless, spiraling black hole of self-destructive thoughts. Unfortunately, he did relapse two times, but now a whole week had passed since he last hurt himself. There were several ways to stop or lighten the urge, but the most efficient one to him was snapping a wristband against his arm once in a while to keep him from doing something stupid again and again.  
Arthur and Matthew were there to help him as well. Since the boy attempted to take his life, they were still shaken up by that happening, and tried their best to make him feel as safe as possible in this world.

All in all, nothing was as bad as it used to be. Once they hit the bottom, there was only one way left to go. And that was up.

Who knew what today might have in plan for them.

"Are you nervous, Alfred?" Arthur asked him as they sat at the kitchen table along with Matthew - this time, they all woke up early enough to have breakfast with no hurry whatsoever.

"Yeah, awfully." The answer was clearly written over Alfred's face, but he still managed to smile at least a little. His smiles now weren't as rare as they used to be, since Arthur had that special power of making the other happier every second they were together. Even in the darkest moments. "But I hope everything goes alright."

"Don't worry. Remember you've got us by your side, you can also always go to the school nurse if you feel bad, and don't stress too much about what the other students might say. They're just another bunch of cynical idiots. Kind of like me." The Brit replied in a somewhat relaxed and amused tone of voice.

Alfred didn't respond using words, yet rather gave a soft chuckle at the last sentence and kept slowly eating the already almost cold piece of toast on the plate in front of him. His appetite still didn't completely return, but the family made him eat.

"Have you taken your meds this morning?" Matthew asked his brother as he sipped some warm tea from his new favourite cup.

"No, they make me nauseous. I'd rather not do it before school."

To be truthful, the medication that Alfred had been assigned with by his therapist wasn't the thing that helped him, but instead just made him cranky and tired all the time. So he tried to avoid them as much as possible, taking them only when he was strictly told to, scared that no one would believe him they don't help.

"Really? You should have said that earlier. I mean, personally, I don't think you need to take them every day. But on the other hand, I trust the doctor more than myself." Matthew shrugged, getting up from the table so he could politely take their plates and cups to the sink.

"I don't think I need them at all, but I don't care right now. I'll tell that to my doctor the next time I see her."  
Alfred's therapy sessions continued twice a week, and each time he got adapted and accustomed to Emily, his therapist, more and more. She was a good listener with great advice in store, and even brought music to her ordination. They both thought it was a better idea to listen to classical pieces than to sit in silence while they still had their radio properly functioning. It was very old, a pain to tune, to say the least.

"Alright then." Arthur nodded, slowly standing up. "We're good to go then, huh?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately." Alfred silently laughed, quickly walking over to the room he shared with Matthew to grab his backpack. "Wait, I forgot to pack my things."

"For god's sake, Alfred..." The Brit muttered under his breath. Still, he couldn't help but be amused.

A bit less than five minutes later, they really were fully ready to go. Backpacks over their shoulders, each of them wearing winter coats and the warmest possible caps. Especially Arthur, who thought that being cold is just as bad as being stabbed multiple times in the heart.

"No fear. Just confidence. Remember that." Matthew repeated the words twice in a soft voice for his brother to really feel them and not forget them. He closed the main door behind them as the three walked out, instantly smacked in the face with the cold winds of winter.

"I should have brought a warmer jacket." Alfred shuddered, far too careless to go back in. Instead, he walked closer to Arthur, feeling warmer already as the other took him by the hand.

Matthew rolled his eyes at their affection, even though he enjoyed seeing them together, they weren't the only ones damn cold. "And I'm a third wheel once again." He stated in a sarcastic tone, but the only reply he got was his brother tightly bringing all of them together, making their walk to the bus station warmer than it seemed to be in the start.

"Not so cold now, are you?" Alfred smirked, holding hands with both of them and not planning to let go any time soon.

And both Arthur and Matthew had their hearts skip a beat - a big part of them had become hopeful once again - they were, indeed, bringing Alfred's spirit back where it belonged. With small steps, that was true, but they moved forward.

That was all that mattered.

\- - -

"Alfred, you're back!"

As they arrived at the bus station, the American was immediately taken by surprise - Elizabeta jumped in to hug him tightly, carefully so she wouldn't cause him any harm, already extremely excited to see her best friend here again. Gilbert was there, too, happy to have Alfred back as well.

"I missed you two so much." Alfred replied with the same amount of joy mixed with another, unexplainable feeling in his voice.

The ride to school passed by quickly, almost too quickly for them as the five of them - Alfred, Arthur, Matthew, Gilbert and Liz - melted in endless chatter among each other once again, just like they used to.

"Don't be scared, I think the teachers still have a glint of empathy left in their hearts after Christmas." Elizabeta chuckled as they all walked out, mixing with a big crowd of students who didn't even notice them. Or they did, but really didn't care. Luckily.

"A glint of empathy? Wow, that's actually poetic. Is it from a song or something?" Alfred was genuinely surprised, liking the sound of it.

"Actually... Yeah. From a song I wrote."

Sadly, their little poetic conversation was interrupted by the school bell ringing, announcing first period. Today, for Alfred's class, that was History.  
All the students climbed up the stairs, each class to their own needed hallway.

Alfred didn't want that dreadful morning to be repeated. He stood close to Arthur and Elizabeta, feeling safer with them being next to him, but he was still deeply worried, trying not to show it.

Suddenly, as the three of them were about to walk into the History classroom, they were stopped by a very, very familiar boy who was definitely the one to insult Alfred the last time he was at school.  
The tall, auburn haired boy looked simply amused by the American's pitiful existence. He smirked at their group of three, from which only Arthur was able to match his height. Alfred was much shorter, but stood with a stern expression ready to defend himself this time.

"Well, well, look who's back. As I've heard, you shouldn't be alive anymore. But oh, we're simply unlucky it you're still here. I wish you the best in your next suicide attempt, you fucking f--"

"There won't be a next one, Antonio." Alfred spat out the boy's name with venom in his voice, cutting him off before any other ignorant words could escape his mouth.

"If you lay a hand on my Alfred, you won't see sunlight ever again, understand that? Now piss off, you fucking twat, we have no time for your little games." Arthur didn't even try to sustain himself from swearing, not caring he was at school. The history teacher hadn't arrived yet in the first place, so most students decided to wait in the classroom. Except some, who stayed in the hallway and watched how this would play out.

"As if you could hurt me! Try, I'd like to see you beg for mercy." Antonio cackled, pushing Arthur a step back, but the Brit wasn't planning to give up so easily.

But it wasn't Arthur who saved the day. Instead, Elizabeta took advantage of her physical strength to knock the other out, bringing him down almost to the floor. "Remember when you said a girl can't fight you?"

The boy couldn't respond with proper sentences, but rather released a string of curse words in his native language at the girl in front of him who stood in a position which clearly said she was ready to fight.

"Think again." She finished, smirking victoriously as she took her two friends by the hands, swiftly running into the history classroom.

There were surprised shouts of students waiting in the hall, people becoming ecstatic after seeing the scene that they made.

"Oh damn, she got him real good!"

"I've never seen her that violent!"

"Well he deserved it, didn't he?"

The word quickly spread over class, and one student even managed to record part of the happening.  
No one wanted to go against the three anymore - not just because they were shit scared of getting pounded by the Hungarian, but also because they realized how brutal Antonio was with his words. After all, Alfred was still fragile. And there was a piece of rationality in every mind that told them not to break him once again.

Perhaps it was that sudden, momentary flash of his old confidence showing on his face. Perhaps it was the words he spoke in a voice that was meant to be heard.  
Or that facial expression which showed that maybe, just maybe he was finally getting better and becoming the Alfred Jones that they had known since the start.

They admired his strength. Despite everything, Alfred kept going, fighting through... And some of them knew very well how difficult that could be.

He didn't feel great. No, he was far from great. Not terrific, not wonderful, but not horrible either.

Alfred was okay.

And that was truly all that mattered.


	42. Spring

April

"Oh my god, oh my god, I'm going to freak out. No, wait. I'm already freaking out! I'm not ready for this! Or am I? No... No, I'm not. Oh, for god's sake, what am I saying? I'm ready! So ready... Or not--"

"Alfred, will you calm down already?!"

"...Sorry."

Ah, spring. The time of the year which paints nature back to life in all colours possible. But it's not only nature that wakes up. It's also the sound of music gracing the atmosphere somewhere from the distance, mingling with the light tapping of the rain coming from the constantly moody English skies.

This April, though, brought another very important thing for Alfred and Arthur. It wasn't only the Brit's eighteenth birthday, but also the auditions, try-outs, however one could call them, for the Royal Musical Academy of London. And what luck, it happened on the same date - April 23rd.

Now the two boys were standing in a large, wide hallway with a whole bunch of other teenage boys and girls who were equally anxious, even terrified, to perform in front of the three judges, the professors on the Academy, and an audience which didn't have less than three hundred people.

Everybody was freaking out, and each person needed to be equally comforted.

"What if I forget the piece completely? I'm already forgetting it." Alfred was heavily breathing, tightly embraced by Arthur who just sighed and knew that whatever he said still wouldn't calm the American down. It was just stage fright, and it would go away with time.

"You won't forget the bloody piece, Alfred. You've played Chopin over a million times in the past month, I swear to god, the entire neighbourhood already knows it." He rolled his eyes almost unnoticeably and held the other close without complaints.

"What if I don't get in?"

"Okay, here we go." Taking a deep breath, Arthur placed both his hands on Alfred's shoulders and made the shuddering boy look at him straight in the eyes. "Every single person in the room is afraid that they won't get in. Some will, some won't. That's how it goes. You're all talented musicians here. But here's another thing you need to know. If you don't get in, which is highly unlikely, that still doesn't make you any worse of a pianist. You're brilliant no matter what the judges say. You will still do music, since you're passionate about it. So just give it a go, try your best and see what happens. I'm proud of you, remember that. And just being here and trying out for the goddamn London Academy is a sign that your playing, your music is fantastic. Got it?"

Alfred's blue eyes were filled to the brim with tears out of fear, confusion, excitement and a whole other mixture of emotions that, when blended together, looked impossible to be read. He blinked a couple of times, taking a second or two to comprehend Arthur's words. "S-so you're saying..." He stuttered out, not knowing how to properly word himself.

"I'm saying that it doesn't matter whether you get in or not, I'll always love and support you in everything you do." Arthur finished the sentence for him, smiling gently and supressing the urge to kiss him right there - but it was too risky with all the people around. So he just took him by the hand, helped him breathe and made him feel safe once again.

"Thank you, Arthur." He replied, wiping off some of the tears running down his blushing face and taking a couple of deep inhales to bring himself back to reality.

A year ago, he wouldn't have thought he'd actually get a chance to perform for the Academy. He had dreamed of it ever since they moved to London, but never thought he would really do it. It was just a distant, unrealistic wish.

But he was really here. With support from his friends, his brother, his piano teacher, and his family. He practised unstoppably for months until he perfected the piece, not only at home, but at school as well, and the auditions were finally here. It seemed like an eternity, yet at the same time it passed by so quickly.

From behind, Alfred suddenly heard familiar footsteps, and as he turned around, he spotted his piano teacher, Rose Alderson. She looked absolutely incredible with her clear, white dress that almost touched the floor and gorgeous, curly blonde hair embracing her shoulders and reaching down all the way to her arms. She wore an honest smile on her face as she approached the two boys. "Alfred, you're up next."

"W-what? You mean, t-to perform?" He stumbled across his words, hands lightly shaking and breath getting shallow once again."

The teacher couldn't help but chuckle a little at his jittery motion. "Yes. You'll do great, I believe in you. Now let's go! I have to take you to the stage, apparently that's the rule."

Alfred first gave an unsure look towards Arthur, the English boy nodding at him with a face that clearly said 'I'm positive it will go well'.  
"Okay. Let's go, then." The American sighed with a smile and followed the young teacher to the door at the end of the hallway. Once they heard a round of applause from behind the wall, they knew the boy currently playing would leave the stage in a few seconds and it would officially be Alfred's turn to play.

They both walked on the wooden flooring of the big stage, making their way to the grand piano, a black Steinway that looked as if it just came out of the factory. Well, perhaps it did.

Alfred looked over to the Kirkland family and Matthew who sat in the audience, and he noticed they were quickly joined by Arthur who pushed through the seats and took his own place next to Connor. They were all there to hear him play.

"My name is Alfred Jones and the piece I will be performing is Chopin's Waltz in E flat major. Thank you." The words left him smoothly, and he tried his best to cover up his extreme nervousness. Standing there in a black suit and tie seemed so unnatural, but it was a dress code and it needed to be respected.  
After introducing himself and the pieces he'd play, Alfred sat down by the piano, and his teacher walked down to join the audience in the second row in which she managed to spot an empty seat.

This was the moment.

The tips of his fingers gently touched the keys, and he closed his eyes on a brief moment, focusing on the tempo and concentrating as much as he could.

And he started playing.

It didn't take him long to melt into the music, each chord taking him deeper, further into a different world. It felt like magic. His playing almost seemed effortless, and the way his hands flew over the keyboard, the sound floating through air and creating colour, a whole spectrum of colour, his emotion showing so clearly through the music. All the joy, sadness, confusion, and the genuine feeling of being lost in this enormous, dangerous, but wonderful world, all of it was being released through this one, simple waltz.

I can't believe I'm here.

I can't comprehend the feeling of being truly alive, playing piano on a stage again after all those years...

I hope it reaches my mother.  
I hope she is proud of me, and I hope she's listening to me play right now.

I believe she is.

All these years, I've felt like there wasn't such a thing as escaping the bad, and that I was going to be trapped inside those narrow four walls filled with hatred, fear and anger.

But it's not true. There's always a way out.

I'm going to spend the rest of my life doing what I love, and that is music.

I just have to believe... It's the most important thing.

Not everything will go smoothly in life. There will be obstacles. Some easier, and some more difficult to overcome. But I will do it, I know I will.

If I've gone through so much already, I can take it. And I know Arthur will always be there to support me. I'm so grateful to have him.

So let's just erase all the bad. Let's clean the soul from the infinite layers of dirt and dust that have been covering it for years.

Let there be light. Let hope shine over our lives and let these chords be that glint of melancholy that we require to feel.

Mum, this is for you.

And with the last chord, he closed his eyes once again, ending the melody, feeling as if the whole world stopped spinning while it lasted, and it was only him, the music, and the colours filling his vision. Colours of hope, and a new life.

He received a standing ovation from the audience, and as he looked towards the people and stood up to take a bow, he noticed a few of them were even moved to tears, including Arthur, Alice and Matthew.

"Thank you." He softly spoke, and after a couple of seconds took his leave towards the backstage area in careful steps. He opened the door and found himself in the sea of other students eager to perform.

All in all, he felt great. That performance released so much that he couldn't express in words, and it was such a relief to know it went well, without a single mistake. He was still slightly shaking. The overflowing emotion didn't stop affecting him immediately, but instead it took him a couple of minutes to come down from the high, breathing in and out and repeating that action several times.

I did well.

For the first time in who knows how long, I feel... Proud.

Of myself? Perhaps. I'm not so sure. I think so.

Alfred, in between all the feelings, didn't even realize he was crying at first. Silently, unnoticeably to others, tears slowly streamed down his face and he just... Let it all go.  
He felt as if those three minutes playing that waltz truly connected him with his mother, like he could hear her speak to him.

I think she loved it.


	43. Dreams

A few hours after the performance, Alfred and his family were still all out together for a walk through London. It wasn't for any special occasion, but just because they were impatiently waiting for the list of results to be placed in the hall of the Royal Musical Academy. More specific, the list of people who got in. Alfred wished with all his heart and soul that he was one of those, and he even prayed for it, which he almost never did. Prayer was always his last option when there was nothing left to be done.

"I'm so excited to see the results, I can't even properly describe it in words..." He spoke up as the family walked alongside each other, Arthur gently holding his hand. "I won't be disappointed if I don't get in, though. I tried my best."

"That's the spirit, Alfred", Arthur smiled with pride. "Your performance was really wonderful. I'm telling you, it brought me to tears!"

"Me too, me too, it was so moving." Alice commented as well, getting out a small item from her purse and handing it over to Arthur. "You've got about fifteen quid in here, you boys go get yourself something nice there at the supermarket. You deserve it."

Arthur stared at the light grey coloured wallet for a couple of seconds, gratefully nodding. "Thanks, mum. Anything you'd like?"

"No, thank you, dear."

"That's a lot of money." Alfred replied in awe. It was a rarity that the got so much to spend, especially out of the blue like this. But, they did deserve it in a way. "Are you sure you want to give us all of that?" He still couldn't help but question. Matthew agreed, his facial expressions filled with the same amount of surprise.

Alice lightly chuckled at their uncertainty. "I'm completely sure."

"Well, uh, thank you!" The older American exclaimed. "Let's go, then, I crave chocolate anyway."

Alfred and Matthew didn't remember when was the last time they were able to go out like this with their own family, just hanging out and having fun, leaving all worries behind. It seemed like decades, even if it was really no more than five years. Still, that wasn't something to think about now. Instead, they just let the relaxation and joy overtake them as they ran off to the supermarket followed by now eighteen year old Arthur and his brothers.

"Then let's feast on chocolate like it's the end of the world!" The Brit excitedly said as they entered the store.

Alice and John stayed behind, wholeheartedly smiling at the boys. "I adore seeing them all so happy." The woman commented with a short sigh, glancing at the man beside her. He nodded in agreement, embracing her gently in a hug. "And I can't believe Arthur's already eighteen. I'm just... So shaken up, I don't know why."

"Now he can finally get drunk without getting arrested, I don't see what's the problem." The father laughed humorously, receiving a chuckle as a response.

"Idiot." She rolled her eyes, but nothing in a bad manner. It was a genuinely great day for each and every one of them, and they didn't want it to ever end.

Inside of the store, the Kirkland and Jones brothers were grasping for anything sweet they spotted out of the corner of their eyes, and they didn't even bother to spend the money on something more important. Arthur pushed a big, silver shopping cart filled with boxes of chocolate, candy bars, Skittles, pretty much anything they wished for. And tea, of course. Which Brit could visit a supermarket without buying tea in the first place?

"I'm actually thinking about buying a bottle of gin. I mean, why the bloody hell not? A celebration is a celebration, and I think the two of us deserve a sip. What do you think?" Arthur carefully took the glass bottle from the shelf, showing it to Alfred who wasn't so sure about it. Though, in all honesty, it did sound like quite a good idea. It wasn't every day that they got their hands on an alcoholic drink, and a few sips wouldn't hurt anyone.

"Well, it's pretty expensive... A-and you know, what would your parents say about it?"

"They can't say anything, I am of legal drinking age since today." The English boy smirked, the other making an irritated face. Alfred was always annoyed by their one year age difference for no particular reason other than being younger got on his nerves.

"Yeah, well, I'm not!" He crossed his arms, glaring at the taller boy.

Arthur sighed, furrowing his eyebrows in thought for a moment before exhaling loudly. "...Fair point, fair point. Next year, then." He put the copper coloured glass bottle back where it belonged, looking around to spot where his brothers were running around. After all, it was Arthur's and Alfred's responsibility to keep an eye on the younger ones.

"Next year it is." Alfred agreed with a nod.

No more than twenty minutes later, they finally finished their little shopping, coming back out of the store with two plastic bags filled to the brim with sugary goods in all kinds of colourful wrapping. Their parents waited outside, drinking coffee from the machine next to the entrance - the cheapest coffee anyone could find, but somehow it was always the best.

"Oh, lord, are you planning to have a week long celebration with all that food?" Alice let out an airy laugh, taking one bag from Arthur's tight grip so she could help and carry it instead of him.

"Don't blame me, I just wanted a bottle of gin. But this guy right here is still salty that he's younger than me." Arthur nudged Alfred on the side a bit, making the other frown and show fake annoyance. "Where's the American spirit now, Jones?"

"Don't you dare! If we were in New York, you wouldn't be able to drink three more years. You're lucky we're in England. Now let's please go back to the Academy, I'm dying to find out the results!" The American's impatient spirit was showing not only in the anxious tone of his voice, but also the quick steps he was making as he walked over to their car which just had to be parked on the whole other end of the big parking lot.

The family quickly followed behind him, and as soon as they reached the old beige coloured Mercedes, they placed the two bags in the trunk of the car and got in, one by one, squeezing together in the back seats. The biggest problem with having a big family was that each time they were driving, the younger ones needed to sit on the older ones because there was absolutely never enough space for all of them. John would always complain about how they needed to get a mini van, but it was only a distant wish and nothing more. It most likely wasn't going to happen, especially because Alice was far too emotionally tied to the current, old vehicle.

So they drove away, back to the enormous place where somebody's dreams were about to get crushed, and somebody's future in music would just begin. It was a cruel game.  
Alfred didn't even notice that he started holding Arthur's hand tightly, maybe even too much, merely out of nervousness for the outcome of the earlier performance.

He was the first to exit the car, exposed to the soft April air, and a tiny bit of wind gracing its features. "I'm nervous again." He whispered under his breath, only for him to hear. "Calm down, Alfred, you can do that. Everything will be okay, just breathe." The words were a simple routine for anxious moments that he learnt with his therapist - she would repeat them to him over and over again during panic attacks and all those moments in which he genuinely felt concerned about something. At first, it didn't help, but as his soul slowly returned its old shine, those simple sentences could make him feel at least a tiny bit better in stressful situations.

"You ready?" Arthur asked gently as they all exited the vehicle, locking the doors behind themselves and finally making their way to the entrance of the glamorous, white painted building on which it proudly stood Royal Academy of Music. But no one called it that. It was just a name used in business letters and writings, yet in everyday speech it was simply... Academy.

"Uh... Kind of." He replied with a shrug of his shoulders as he sighed, breathing in and out deeply two times in a row.

The family entered the great hall once again, looking for that specific board where they would announce the results. Or, to be more accurate, where they already announced them, waiting for the performing students to see them. Three papers were pinned on the plastic surface, and as Alfred got closer to them, he scanned all over them to spot his name and surname.

Please, be there. I'd give anything for my name to stand there. It doesn't matter whether I'm first or last by points, I just want to be one of those who got in.

Then, he saw it.

In the seventh row, his name stood written in a partially messy calligraphy handwriting.  
No. 7, Alfred Jones, 44,5 points.

"I... I got in."

And he was suddenly tightly hugged by all of his loved ones, everybody cheerful for this huge success - his life as a musician had just begun in a big flash, and it would end only when his life ended. Not even then, for his legacy would be saved for eternity. All his future compositions, writings and everything he would do were sure going to be cherished, and kept until the end of our days.

"Congratulations!"

"I'm so happy for you, Alfred!"

Truth be told, he felt like crying. But this time, it wasn't out of sadness or sorrow, but pure joy for being alive, in the embrace of the ones he loved, with a giant success on his hands.  
Starting September, he would be a student of the Royal Musical Academy of London, which was his dream since he moved to England. It was so unrealistic, he thought he was dreaming, everything was spinning for a second or two...

But it was real. It was the truth.

"Mum must be very proud now." Matthew gently spoke with an honest smile on his face.

"Yeah, she is." Alfred responded in a shaky tone, receiving another tight hug from his younger brother.

I suppose things actually turned around for the better. My whole world used to be upside down, but it's slowly taking on balance again.

I can be in peace.


	44. Life

September 2021

Time flies by so quickly all the time. It is nothing strange for people with busy lives, big families, important businesses or those who genuinely like to have a good time, live life to its limits and spend every second like it's the last second of this unimaginable universe existing.

And so Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones were already young men in their twenties, each doing what they enjoyed the most, living together at their own little place in the outskirts of London.

The American got engaged in recording various piano songs - ranging from classical music to his own, original pieces - in actual studios, and was currently working on an album of melodies specifically written for the piano and the guitar, for which he was accompanied by Arthur.  
The Brit decided to go for psychology, and got into all kinds of charity work for those in need, spreading awareness for the ones struggling with bad mental health and helping them get back on their feet. Alfred appreciated that greatly, perhaps that was because he was, indeed, one of those people. Or at least used to be, and now he was still stuck in that extremely long process of recovery.

Of course, life wasn't all fun and games. There were several moments during these few years in which Alfred grabbed for the painful release again and again, relapsing each time severely, once with terrible consequences which even lead him back to being surrounded by the pale hospital walls, ending up in therapy just like he used to when he was younger.  
Arthur was there for him each time, picking him up from the ground and giving him all the love he needed in those worst times.

Emotional suffering leaves scars on the person that remain on their heart and soul for life, and all the person can do is try their best to move on and get slowly, painfully better throughout time. And so with those words on his mind, Alfred didn't just easily let go of therapy, but continued visiting the lady a couple of days in a month even when he started feeling better again. That was also a recommendation from his whole family - the Kirklands, and his brother Matthew.

Matthew Jones had created an almost outstanding lifestyle for himself, but it saddened the others that he was so many miles away from the United Kingdom - all the way in Stanford, California, on one of the world's leading teaching and researching institutions in which he could finally do physics and chemistry, something that he always cherished, without any limits. He missed Alfred, of course, but there were always holidays during which he would always come back to London to visit him and the rest of the family that took them in while they were at their worst.

"Okay, but, listen to this idea. A musical about a person trying to find home. They, like, walk through this so-called endless and impossible maze of death while trying to find their loved ones, and they write songs about their travel." Alfred was rambling to Arthur as he wrote down the millionth idea about a musical only that day, the Brit just nodding along to whatever he said, probably zoned out for the past half an hour anyway. "Then when they find that mysterious forest thing, I can finally use that idea for the colour green sounding like an F minor chord! I've wanted to do this for years now. Well, ever since I discovered that the F minor chord really does seem green. Unlike the D minor which is blue and kind of smells like winter air... Can you feel that, too? It's as if something deep within shows me the actual colours of music. Oh dear, I might be going insane again. Oi, Arthur. Are you even listening?" The boy could talk, talk and talk without stopping, which was one of his most recognizable personality traits. But in all honesty, Arthur was glad he got it back, because there were years that they spent in constant, tormenting silence.

"Yes, I'm listening... It doesn't sound like a bad idea. Also I've told you a thousand times already, that's called synesthesia. You know, more senses overflowing you at once. We've talked about that before. It's not like I'm a psychology major or anything." Arthur said the last sentence in a sarcastic tone, sipping a cup of coffee as the two of them sat in a bar at the corner of the street.

"Oh, yeah, that thing. So I'm not going crazy?" Alfred nodded, still questioning it all over again.

"Well... Let's hope you aren't." The Brit scoffed.

Life was getting better, that was sure. With Alfred's almost unrealistic wishes about creating a world wide known musical about a boy running through a forest, and with Arthur's dream to finally publish a book about different phenomenons of the human mind and imagination, it was never boring. There was always something going on, bad or good, which gave them entertainment, made them feel joy, sadness, excitement, anxiousness, and all other kinds of emotions that could not be put into proper words of the English language.  
The American hadn't thought of hurting himself since July, and Arthur was there to teach him how to overcome the urge at any time he got it. 

But, it wasn't only the two of them who experienced a rollercoaster of emotions through the years.  
Their long time best friends Gilbert and Elizabeta were still together, yet it wasn't like that the entire period. At one point, the two went through a harsh breakup, but still couldn't stand being separated. They were just meant for each other. Now both the Hungarian and the German attended classes at the Art Academy of London together, enjoying it thoroughly and having a lot of fun. Especially with painting.

"Since you don't seem to enjoy my artsy musical ideas that much, hear me out on this one. A musical about the history of the United States!" Alfred shouted out loud, perhaps a bit too loud, and suddenly all eyes at the bar were on him.

Arthur wanted to be swallowed by the ground from the embarrassment. "Could you be bloody quieter, Alfred? Also, I think you might be forgetting another hit musical about the history of the States. Remember, the one you listened on repeat almost every day for the past... Three years?"

"Oh, that's right, Hamilton... Damn it! That's such a good idea, I wanted to make it!" Alfred frowned momentarily, sighing in defeat. "Well, then I'm out of ideas." He shrugged, sipping his own drink. Instead of coffee, he had hot chocolate, and he actually drank it with a straw. People couldn't help but think of him of an overgrown child, which was actually quite a funny scene to imagine. "Perhaps I should stick to the colours of music."

"Or you could finish your piano and guitar album first and let me drink my coffee in peace."

"Right, right, sorry about that." The younger chuckled, rolling his eyes in amusement. "You know, I will miss working with you on that album once it's done. That might be one of the reasons why I'm procrastinating recording the next tune."

"I certainly won't miss the producer making me those lousy cups of green tea." Arthur bitterly shook his head in mock agony. "I will never forget the taste of sorrow running through my blood as I took that last sip and gasped, falling onto the ground with a shriek of pain..." He dramatically described the feeling, clutching his chest and trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Write a book, dude, very funny." Now Alfred was the one wishing to die from embarrassment. They had to be the only two people sitting at that bar who caught the glances of all people, even forcing out laughter from a few men their age. "I'm serious, though!"

"Yeah, I know you are. That's why I'm teasing. And you love me so you can't do anything about it." He smirked, leaning in to steal a short kiss from the other. Now that was what caused not only Alfred to become completely flustered and red in the face no matter how many times Arthur had done it, but it also caused multiple heads to turn towards them, not a single one in disgust. Times were changing, anyway, equality and pride slowly became normal terms for every person to understand and respect.

"Not in public!" The frustrated, blushing American whisper yelled at his boyfriend, fake coughing a couple of times to cover up his sudden shyness from the kiss.

Truth be told, he absolutely loved it.

\- - -

Evening had fallen upon the old and grey streets of London, and it brought serenity, beauty, and relaxation among the people underneath the sky - those who aimed for the stars, and those who wanted to keep both their feet on the ground. Those who loved, and those who were afraid to love. Those who suffered, and those who helped. The dusty sky mixing yellow, purple and dark blue created an atmosphere one could imagine was from a fairytale, and nothing could replace that feeling of inner piece that it gave.  
A light G major chord played on a piano could be heard in the distance. The sound floated through the air, echoing from the invisible walls around, and then it disappeared. It was beautiful while it lasted. It was followed by a slow melody, accompanied by the gorgeous sound of a violin.

Alfred and Arthur sat on a slightly scruffy wooden bench in a park, that same park where they first walked together hand in and on a rainy day. Except tonight, it wasn't raining. It was calm. Both boys had their eyes focused on the sky, each thinking a completely different thing, seeing it in a different way. Its mesmerizing beauty was almost overwhelming, and Alfred couldn't help but think of a melody to go with the colours - a waltz, perhaps. The mixed colours, the copper and purple, reminded him of A flat major. That would be its best description. In Arthur's mind, he saw words. Almost an entire paragraph just describing the evening sky. But what was the correct word... Heavenly, it looked heavenly.

"It's so pretty tonight." Alfred softly spoke, almost in a whisper. He shifted a bit closer to Arthur, leaning his head on the Brit's shoulder in a gentle manner, and feeling himself becoming warmer from the closeness. Arthur couldn't help but smile, wrapping an arm around the American and noticing how his expression looked entranced by the colours, as if he saw them for the first time.

"It is, indeed." He replied in the same tone of voice, sighing lightly and closing his eyes on a longer moment, thinking how wonderful it would be to create a story with this moment being the theme. Nothing more but a short story filled with poetic descriptions of how incredible it was for him to share a view like this with the one he loved the most, and how grateful he was for life. For everything. For all the bad that crashed them down to the ground, but taught them how to pick themselves up from the ground again and again, and for all the good that made it worth going through.

After all, darkness exists to make light truly count.

That's just how it goes.


	45. Author's Note

Hello, my beautiful, wonderful readers!

We have, unfortunately, reached the end of this story as well. But let's not cry because it's over, and instead smile because it happened! A positive outlook on life is the most important thing next to love. Although when you think about it, those two do go together.

Anyway, I must tell you, I haven't enjoyed writing a story this much in a long, long time. I believe I put my heart and soul into it, and lost my mind in the process. (That was a quote by Vincent van Gogh, by the way. And it's one of the most beautiful sentences ever.)

In a wonderful way, of course.

I must also feel a little proud, since this is my longest work ever written. About two times the length of A Million Voices (a fic I posted on Wattpad a year ago). Even if it has the same amount of chapters, each chapter is double the size. So, am I allowed to be proud? I think so. At least a tiny bit, if nothing else.

So, what I wanted to show in this story - even though I haven't lived such a long life, that doesn't mean I didn't get to experience a lot of bad and good things. In fact, I experienced countless of those. But that's not the point, I'm going off topic like I always do.  
I talk to a lot of people here on the Internet, and the majority of my friends feel hopeless, struggle with bad mental health and believe that they don't belong here, that they will never get better. That hurts me, to hear that. So with this story, through these characters familiar to many of you, I wanted to show you that it does get better. No matter what you might think right now, light really does start shining again.

I would know. I'm still trying to recover, since I've had mental health issues for the past three years and even more. My best friend did as well. She hurt herself, shut herself out, isolated, and suffered from emotional abuse from her own mother. And at school, it brought her nothing but even more suffering. So you can say that this story isn't just my experience, but also hers as well.  
I had other issues regarding family, but it wasn't anything like that. So when she finally told me what was happening, I was broken to hear that. I guess I'm too empathetic, to that point where I will start drowning in other people's wounds as if they are my own. That's not good, and it ruins me even more.

Right now, I'm trying not to hurt myself. I'm trying my best. But since I've made a promise to several people that I will not do it - and I don't break promises - then I really won't do it.

But not everything is bad. Let's stop for a moment and think of all the good things that have happened. And I know what you may think: "Oh, well Alex, nothing good has ever happened in my life!" That's not true. I know it isn't. It might have been terrible most of the time, but think of that one joke your friend told you that made you laugh. Think of the first time you spotted a leaf in autumn fall right in front of your feet, and you picked it up, examining its beauty. Think of the first time you saw snow, or the first time you looked through the window and woke up to sunshine.

Cherish the smallest moments. Just like Alfred and Arthur cherish the evening sky - you do, too. Put it into words, into music, a painting or something completely different.

I'm not a psychologist. Though I adore helping people, sympathizing with them and trying to make them understand their emotions, I'm not a psychologist. I'm a musician. I want to make people smile with my music, because I know music is the thing that keeps me alive.  
One day, I felt so utterly miserable I wanted to disappear, then I listened to one of my favourite songs and at least a tiny bit of life returned to my soul. I want to be able to do that. For a person that feels down to freely listen to my music and... Feel better?

I really hope I do that in my life.

Anyway, this might have been the longest last-chapter-author-note that I've ever done, so...

You already know what follows.

*double clap* Music, per favore!  
(For those not familiar with this, basically, I write down all music that I listened to while writing this story.)

Yiruma:  
Kiss the Rain, River Flows in You, Spring Time, Fairy Tale, Sky, Painted, Farewell, Hope, It's Your Day

Red:  
Pieces

Of Monsters and Men:  
Love Love Love, Dirty Paws, King and Lionheart, Winter Sound, Mountain Sound, Little Talks

Ben Cocks:  
So Cold

Mia:  
Bezimeni, Život Nije Siv

Sleeping at Last:  
Let's be honest, I listened to all of his songs while writing. I could do a whole chapter just on it.

Lucas King:  
Dark Piano: Disorder, Sad Piano vol. 4 (that one is my favourite, but I've listened to them all)

Mumford & Sons:  
Winter Winds, Tompkins Square Park, Lover of the Light, Roll Away Your Stone, Broken Crown, After the Storm, Reminder, Wilder Mind

Ed Sheeran:  
Eraser, Happier

Dodie Clark:  
6/10, You

Evanescence:  
My Immortal

Christina Perri:  
Human, A Thousand Years, Arms

Alan Walker:  
Alone

The Cab:  
Angel with a Shotgun

Thorsteinn Einarsson:  
Aurora

Gavin DeGraw:  
Belief

My Chemical Romance:  
All the Angels, Teenagers, Mama, Dead!, Scarecrow, Bulletproof Heart, The Kids from Yesterday, Disenchanted, Summertime, and of course, I'm Not Okay

A thousand times thank you for reading this. It means the world to me, I swear!

Thank you, have a wonderful time, Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and... That's it!

See you next time!

~Alex <3


End file.
